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azzifuddfanpage · 2 months ago

Note

Hey so like can you make a fic of azzi annoying paige while she on instagram,(like poking her, repeating her name) and then paige is just giggling and ignoring her and then when azzi keeps doing it paige like pins her down to the bed and asks her what she wants and azzi just laughs then says she wants her attention so paige gives her it and so on. PLEASE

Distracted

———— hiii sorry for not writing i haven’t felt very motivated! Pls give me feedback, and thank you for the prompt🫶🫶

2.1k words

themes: girlfriends/ fluff/ smut

tw: smut/ swearing

————

Azzi has never been much of a “screenager” as some might say. She definitely enjoys a good scroll every now and then, but she could think of a million different things she would rather be doing than going on her phone when she is with her friends. ESPECIALLY Paige.

After 30 minutes of mindless scrolling Azzi had finally had enough.

Azzi was lying angled at the side of her bed, her legs draped across Paige's stomach.

Paige was scrolling on Instagram as well, brushing Azzi’s legs with her fingers gently.

Azzi sat up a little so she could have a better view of Paige.

She sighed dramatically as Paige didn’t seem to pay much attention.

“Paigeeee” she whined, sitting up and moving her legs so she could move closer to Paige.

“Hm?” Paige replied not looking up, only making Azzi’s lips turn into a pout.

“Watcha doin?” She said curiously inching her fingers over along the bed until they reached Paige's arm.

“KK’s gonna go live, she wants me to join.” Paige said, clicking on her phone as she sees the notification.

“Hey girly pop!” KK’s voice echoes through the room.

“Oh paige request to join” kk continued, seeing paige show up in the chat.

Azzi flopped back against the wall defeatedly.

She was never gonna get Paige's attention now.

——

10 minutes later Paige was still live, and no sign of leaving anytime soon.

“I’m gonna go take a shower” Azzi says softly, only for Paige's voice to hear.

She needs to figure out a way to get Paige’s attention.

——

When she gets back to the room, she didn’t bring her clothes to change into.

As she crept back into the room quietly, she saw paige’s eyes drift to her body outlined in the towel.

Azzi smirked, now we’re talking.

She walked over to the closet that was directly next to the bed, turning her head to make sure paige was looking at her.

When they made eye contact paige immediately regained her focus on the live to whatever kk was saying, pretending to still be interested, and not distracted by the pretty brunette in front of her.

Paige starts to respond to one of the comments, while Azzi turns back around to the closet and lets her towel drop, smiling to herself.

She can hear the shift in Paige's voice, her breath catching in her throat and eyes almost bulging out of her head at the sight of her curvy backside and muscular back.

“Uhmmmm” paige trails off watching as Azzi bends over to grab some of her pj shorts from the bottom drawer.

She instantly feels a wetness grow between her thighs as she sees azzis pussy on display, her pink clit peeking through her tan folds.

“Sorry- I uh- lost my train of thought.” Paige mumbles embarrassed as she turns away from Azzi’s view trying to maintain her focus.

Azzi’s smirk grows seeing Paige get flustered.

She slides on her shorts and shirt and crawls back onto the bed, out of view of Paige's camera.

Paige looks down at her and gives her an irritated look.

If paige still wasn’t going to give Azzi attention like the princess she was, Azzi was going to have to get it herself.

She started at her feet, sliding her socks off one at a time. Looking up at Paige's startled face.

She then begins to slowly move her fingers up the legs of her sweatpants, stopping at the waist band.

Before Paige can shove her away, Azzi moves up to her phone and tilts it so it is only showing her upper half. She then moves her fingers around the waistband, and slides them down Paige's legs.

Paige immediately crosses her legs embarrassed.

Azzi tries to pry them open, giggling as Paige was beginning to have a hard time holding back her smile as Azzi started tickling her.

“Uh Kk it looks like I have to go, my uhm- phone is gonna die.” Paige says stifling her laughter.

“Isn’t that a charger next to you-“ kk starts, but her voice is cut off as Paige throws her phone to the side and catches Azzi’s hand mid tickle.

She grabs her other hand, turning Azzi around and holding her by her wrists, her hands “cuffing” her behind her back.

“What do you want, Azzi? Why are you being such a brat right now?” Paige says through her teeth into Azzi’s ear.

Azzi shudders at her breath.

“I just want your attention baby. I want it so bad.” Azzi practically moans as Paige's hands go up and tilt her head back so her neck is angled against Paige's shoulder.

Paige's fingers wrap around Azzi’s chin, pulling it towards her so she can attach their lips.

She places a wet sloppy kiss on her lip, running her tongue against Azzi’s bottom lip and biting down and pulling on it gently.

“You have it now princess.” Paige said roughly as her lips hovered over Azzi’s.

Azzi now was able to wiggle out from her grip, and create a distance from her and paige.

“I want you so bad… I need you now.” Paige smirks as Azzi’s needy voice fills the air.

“I’m all yours baby.” Paige says as she reaches forward and pulls Azzi’s shirt over her head.

Azzi’s perky tits drop from her shirt bouncing as Paige flips her so she is laying on the bed and Paige is now straddling her.

“Love these titties baby.” Paige said massaging them with her fingers.

Azzi moans at her touch, her eyes closing as Paige leans forward and sucks one of her nipples into her mouth.

Paige is now hovering over Azzi, she lets go of Azzi’s nipples now, and crawls forward so her core is hovering over Azzi’s abs.

Azzi can feel Paige's slick against her stomach as paige starts grinding against her, letting out soft moans at the friction.

“Damn this wet already.” Azzi teases, giggling as Paige replies with a breathy moan.

Azzi reaches her hands up and tugs at her panties.

“Want them off p” Azzi whines, needing to feel the skin to skin contact.

“Whatever you want princess” Paige says, sliding them off and lowering herself back down so she can continue to grind down on Azzi’s stomach.

The pressure on her lower tummy makes Azzi’s heart drop and the wetness between her legs grow.

Azzi attaches her hands to Paige's hips to help create more friction between the two.

Paige quickens her pace, speeding up so she is rubbing against her more aggressively now, her juices spilling onto Azzi’s stomach.

Azzi could come just at the sight of her like this.

“You’re so perfect baby, fuck.” Azzi says as she can’t tear her eyes away from Paige's perfect body.

Paige lets out another long moan, and Azzi reaches forward and grabs her shirt pulling it over her head so Paige was completely nude.

Azzi reaches up and grabs Paige's small perky tits and massages them, rubbing her pink nipple under her finger.

The added stimulus triggers a response in Paige, she moans some more from the added touch.

She leans forward attaching her lips to Azzi’s as she continues to grind back and forth her tongue battling against Azzi’s.

Azzi swallowed her moans as they kissed, moving her hand down from her chest and down to Paige's clit to help her.

With a few swipes of her finger she could feel Paige's legs starting to twitch, and her moans became more choppy.

“Azzi fuck right there.” Paige groaned, now hovering over her abs letting Azzi’s fingers do all the work on her clit.

Azzi sped up letting Paige's moans cue her motions.

She slid two fingers into her tight pussy, thrusting them in and out as Paige was struggling to keep herself up.

Before she knew it Paige was yelling her name and her cum was flowing out of her and onto Azzi’s stomach.

“That’s it baby let it out, give it to me” Azzi said as she slipped her fingers out of her letting more of Paige's white juices spill out into her, contrasting with the tan of her stomach.

“Holy fuck” paige moaned, leaning onto Azzi to catch her breath.

Azzi was completely satisfied with herself for getting what she wanted. She knew Paige wasn’t able to resist her.

“Don’t think you aren’t getting punished for your behavior earlier.” Paige teased.

“Bro you’re gross.” Azzi laughed, shoving her face.

Paige smirked but pulled down Azzi’s shorts, immediately unveiling her glistening cunt

“Wow no panties either, just begging to be fucked aren’t you.” Paige teased as she ran her fingers through her folds.

Azzi let out a gasp as Paige settled on her clit rubbing small tight figure eights on it.

Azzi’s moans grew as Paige's speed increased.

She started to feel her walls begin to tighten already, craving more pressure.

She began to thrust her hips towards Paige's fingers, desperate to get more contact.

Paige pulled away confidently, smirking as Azzi’s pussy clenched around nothing.

“Please baby.. i'm sorry” she moaned as she began to move her fingers down, desperate to please herself.

“Need you to touch me..” Azzi continued.

“Wow getting me off got you this horny huh�� paige said as she leaned into her, pressing her lips to her neck and licking along her jawline.

“Mhm” Azzi said, nodding eyes big and needy.

Paige began to continue kissing her, her knee pushing into Azzi’s center. She started to rub it against her as she maneuvered her tongue into her mouth.

Paige adjusted their position so now her knee was lower, and her pussy was hovering over Azzi’s.

Azzi looked up at her needily, craving to feel her pussy against hers.

With that the two girls began working to get closer to each other, connecting their pussies so they were just inches away from each other.

Their shaky breaths filled the air, Paige pressed down, and started rubbing her clit grinding against Azzi’s.

Azzi moaned loudly at the contact.

“Fuck” she said as paige circled her hips over Azzi, pushing into her so their clits were smushed together.

“You feel so good baby.” Paige's eyes locked on Azzi as she lets out a moan at the friction between them.

Paige speeds up thrusting her pelvis into Azzi, moans leaving her body as their hips smash together.

Paige can feel herself grow closer, and can hear Azzi’s whimpers speeding up, a sign she knew meant Azzi was close.

Paige rocked into Azzi with more force, watching as Azzi’s tits bounced with the impact.

“You’re so beautiful Az.” Paige's egged, moaning as she felt the wetness between them grow.

“I’m so close don’t stop.” Azzi groaned as her nails dug into Paige's back, begging for more pressure.

“Fuck me and too shit” paige groaned and felt her stomach tightening.

The room was silent except for the signs of their moans and the squelching of their pussies rubbing against each other.

“I’m coming P. Oh my fuck.” Azzi yelped as her juices began to pour out of her mixing with paige’s as they fell onto the sheets below them.

“Holy fuck that was good.” Paige said as she lay down next to Azzi on the bed.

Azzi couldn’t even speak; she just let out a moan in agreement as she snuggled her head into Paige's shoulder, their naked bodies connecting again, covered in sweat and each other’s cum.

Paige rubbed her hand up and down Azzi’s back knowing how easily she gets overstimulated when she receives.

She listens as Azzi’s heaving breaths slow and she drifts off to sleep snuggled up against her.

She looks so cute all fucked out, paige can’t help herself, but get up and grab her phone taking a picture of her.

Smiling to herself as she captions it, “fucked tf out of her” and sends it to Azzi laughing quietly, and she saves it to her my eyes only.

She crawls out of bed slowly, and runs to the bathroom to grab a wet washcloth, cleaning herself off then returning to her room and gently wiping off Azzi’s skin, careful to not wake her.

She throws the towel into the hamper, and climbs back into her bed, not bothering to put clothes on and snuggling back into Azzi who subconsciously curled up into her side.

The sound of Azzi’s breathing was like melatonin putting Paige off into a deep sleep.

#azzi fudd #paige bueckers #pazzi #i love azzi fudd #pazzi fic #pazzi fics #paige x azzi

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coldfanbou · 1 year ago

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Homemaker

Well you could say this week is mommy madness with the two fics being that way. Anyway, enjoy step-mom Mina losing her mind.

Length 2.1K

Mina X mreader

“Sweetie, come down; breakfast is ready,” You roll over in your bed, wanting to sleep just a little bit longer. You hear your stepmother's voice call you again and choose to ignore her for the moment, needing just five more minutes of sleep. Her footsteps grow louder as she comes down the hallway and approaches your door.

The jiggling of your door knob soon gives way to her. Mina stood in the doorway, “Come on, breakfast is ready. I worked really hard on it today.”

You turn over onto your back and look at her, mumbling, “Five more minutes.”

Mina’s face turns a bright red, and she gives you a quick nod before turning away and closing the door. You think nothing of it and sleep for those five more minutes before getting out of bed and walking to the kitchen. Your dad was already gone by the time you got down, but you weren’t surprised he always left early in the morning, leaving you and Mina alone. “O-oh, you’re finally here,” Mina says, patting her apron as she turns back to the stove. “Let me just warm this up for you,” she says, her hand shaking slightly as she rewarms your food. Mina plates your food and hands it to you before sitting on the other side of the table and eating her own. Your meal was silent; while you were focused solely on Mina’s cooking, she looked over your features. “You’re getting pretty strong now, aren’t you?” You give her a slight nod and rub your eyes before looking at her. She had a shy, gummy smile on her face. Her grin grew more prominent as you met her eyes briefly before she shot her head to the side.

“Is something wrong, Mina?”

“No, no. It’s just I put a little too much salt on my food.” You shrug and continue eating, occasionally glancing at her.

“Thank you for the meal, Mina.” Once you’re done, you change, leave the house, and head to your university classes. Once you’re gone, Mina takes a deep breath. She heads into your bedroom, lying on it, taking a deep breath, and taking in your scent. Her hand runs up and down her thigh, before she shakes her head and slaps her face.

Moving onto her back, Mina takes a deep breath. “I shouldn’t be thinking of him like this. He’s my stepson,” she says aloud. “But…” Mina places her hand on her clothed crotch, rubbing herself slowly. “It was so big,” she moans. Mina thinks back to the morning when she saw the outline of your morning wood. She reaches under her shirt and finds her nipple, twisting it between her fingers as she begins to slip her other hand under her pants. Mina shuts her eyes and lets her voice fill the room as she moves her fingers along her lower lips; she was getting wet as she imagined your cock. “N-no, I can’t.” She moaned, trying to hold onto the idea of you as her stepson. Your scent floods her nostrils, and she turns onto your stomach, taking it in as she continues to slide her fingers along her lips. As Mina pushes her fingers inside, she moans your name, and the last bits of her resistance fade away as she imagines you taking her. Mina’s walls press against her fingers, coating them in her nectar. “It’s all your fault,” She moans, thinking about her husband. “Why couldn’t you have been bigger?” Mina’s fingers begin to move faster, and she tugs on her hardened nipple, bringing more moans out of her.

You return to the house a few minutes after you’ve left, having forgotten something. You head straight for your room before slowing down as you hear moans filling the room. They were coming for your room, and as you poke your head from behind the doorframe, you see Mina masturbating on your bed. Your ears are filled with her moans, and then you hear her moan your name. You feel your pants tighten as your other head begins to awaken. Mina was in her own world, completely unaware. You walk into your room and call her name. Mina scrambles to sit up, completely flustered. “It’s not what it looks like! I-I I was,” You drop your pants along with your underwear, letting your stepmother see your cock. Mina gulps and unconsciously licks her lips.

You always thought Mina was a beautiful woman; you were just showing her what you thought about her. As you jerked yourself off slowly, your eyes moved up and down her body. She tentatively reaches forward, her eyes shifting from meeting yours to your cock. “May I?” You give her a nod and soon feel Mina’s gentle and wrap around your shaft. Her hand slowly slides down to your base before returning to the head, “It’s amazing.” She whispers.

You bend over, getting by her ear. “I want to see my stepmom’s body.” After you say that, you can feel the heat radiating from her face.

“I-I,” Mina stutters, struggling with her words.

“You were moaning my name, and you have my cock in your hand. A good mother would help me with it, right? And you’re a good stepmom, right?” You run your hand along her face, moving her long black hair behind her ear.

“I’m a good stepmom,” Mina says before beginning to strip. She grabs the bottom of her shirt and brings it over her head; a dark blue bra is hidden underneath. Mina stands up, her eyes remaining on your cock as she unbuttons her jeans and pulls them off; she has a matching blue panty on. You stared at Mina’s body, happy with its appearance. Mina takes hold of your cock once more, stroking it slowly. “I’ll take care of you, son,” She says, staring into your eyes. “Mommy will take good care of you.” Mina kneels before you, her hand sliding to the base of your cock. Mina kisses the tip of your cock, shutting her eyes as she swallows the head. She bobs her head slowly, her tongue moving, swirling along the tip as she lets out a low moan.

“Fuuck, Mina. You’re so good at this,” you groan, gently pushing her to take more in. Mina’s lips stretch as she tries to service you. Her tongue drags itself along your shaft, moving up the sides to coat it in a thick layer of her saliva. You lean over, unlatching her bra. Mina continues to bob her head as she moves the straps off her shoulders and discards it. You pull away from your stepmother, taking your cock in hand. Mina immediately tries to get you back into her mouth, saliva dripping from the corners of her mouth and making her look like a cock-hungry whore. You slap her cheeks with your cock, each time Mina moves her head, trying to get it back into her mouth. “Does it taste that good?”

Mina nods her head, “It’s great.” You rub your shaft across Mina’s cheek; she turns her head, running her tongue up and down the side of your shaft. You pull it away from her again, this time moving her onto the bed. You spread Mina’s legs apart, noticing the wet spot on her panties from her earlier masturbation session. You move your index finger down the middle, listening to Mina whine. You hook your fingers around the waistband and pull down her panties, letting the fresh air hit her cunt.

You stroke your cock as you lean over her, “Tell me how much you want it, Mina.” You prod her with your cock, rubbing it against her inner thigh. “I want to know how much you want your stepson’s cock. Is my dad’s that pathetic that you want mine?” Mina whimpers as you move the tip between her folds.

“I want you,” Mina whimpers as she brings her hands down and spreads her lips apart for you. “Please fuck your stepmom.” You smirk and prepare yourself. You press the tip against Mina’s entrance, pushing the head in. Mina's head rolls back, her lips forming an O as she moans. You grab Mina’s waist and slowly move the rest of your length in, forcing more moans out of Mina as she feels you go deeper than any partner she’s had. She grips the bedsheets as you ram the last bit inside her. You feel her walls squeezing your cock tightly.

“Whose is better, Mina?” Mina stays quiet, refusing to answer your question. “Alright, be that way.” You kiss Mina’s neck before whispering, “I’ll make you scream my name by the end. Don’t break on me.” You drag your cock out of Mina, listening to her moans before you slam your length back in. She cries out from the pleasure, still gripping the sheets. You begin your thrusts, making sure to push deep into Mina’s tight cunt; her walls coat your cock in her nectar, allowing you to slide in with ease. Her small tits bounce, moving in circles as you buck your hips and force her tight body to take every inch.

“Mmm, ahh!” Mina cries, bringing one hand to her mouth to cover her moans. You grab that hand, moving it to the side of her head, and you steal a kiss from Mina. Forcing your tongue into her mouth, Mina is at your mercy. You explore it as you move your free hand down to Mina’s thigh, giving it a rough squeeze as you hold it against your body. With each thrust, you hear Mina’s moans grow louder. Her walls were clamping down on your cock. You knew she was nearing her climax.

“Who’s better, Mina? If you don’t tell me, I’m not going to let you cum.” You slow your thrusts to make your point clear.

“You’re better! You’re so much bigger and better! Please let me cum, I need it!” Mina pleads with you to let her reach her climax. You continue to slow your thrusts. You kiss Mina again, playing with her tongue as you suddenly begin ramming your cock back inside her at a rapid pace. Mina’s muffled moans become whines as she nears her climax. She locks her legs around your body, pushing further in as she gets closer. You feel her body tense up, “AH! I’m cumming!” Mina shouts. Her toes curl, and her body stiffens, with her back arcing as she cums. You bury your cock inside her, enjoying the feeling of her walls tightening around you. You were close to cumming, needing just a little bit more. You make small thrusts, barely moving inside her just to keep yourself hard as her body relaxes. Once her legs fell to your sides, you pulled out of Mina and turned her onto her stomach. “What are you doing?” She mumbles, her mind hazy from her orgasm.

You pull her ass up, forcing Mina’s back into a deep arch. You rub her ass, squeezing the soft piece of flesh before striking it. Mina moaned; she enjoyed the mixture of pain and pleasure. You align your cock once more and drive your cock deep into her cunt, “Oh shit!” You smirked; that was the first time you had heard Mina curse. Your thrusts were quick and strong, each one stirring her insides.

Mina’s toes began to curl again as she felt your cock splitting her in two. She was still coming down from her previous orgasm and was highly sensitive. She felt her core tightening as another orgasm came. Mina pulled her nipples, driving her to her climax.

Her walls clamped down around your cock. You were about to climax, too; Now was your chance. You bury your cock inside Mina’s needy cunt and pour your load into her womb. Mina’s body shakes as she feels your warm cum fill her. Her body collapses onto your bed with you still inside her. You thrust lightly, getting the last of your cum inside her before you pull out. You kiss the back of Mina’s head before heading to the bathroom to clean yourself up. You return to your room and grab what you had forgotten before leaving again, “I’ll be going now, Mina.”

When you returned home that day, everything was normal. The next morning, you woke up overhearing Mina and your father talking; it was her seeing him off for the day. You stroked your cock, knowing Mina would come to your room. Her footsteps grew louder until she reached your door; there was a moment of silence that led to the door opening to a naked Mina. A smile formed on her face as she stepped into your room for another round.

#kpop smut #male reader #m reader #twice smut #mina smut

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nana-au · 10 months ago

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Best Friends Know Best

Suguru Geto ♡

MDNI

₊˚ପ⊹ Summary: Your trip to the mall stresses Suguru out, so you treat him to some head when you two get home.

₊˚ପ⊹ Warnings: possessiveness, praising, immodest clothes in public, toxic ideology from geto, oral m! receiving, slight slut shaming, throat fucking, dirty talking (did i miss anything.. lol)

₊˚ପ⊹ an: this is sorta an extension off of my fic Best Friends Forever! (also sorry for not posting in a while i’m working on longer fics while also struggling to keep up with life lol)

₊˚ପ⊹ wc: 1.8k

𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

He doesn't really understand why you insist on dressing up to go to the mall. You were there to buy new clothes, does it matter what you have on? Typically he would never complain about your fashion choices – You look darling in your girly little outfits.

But today? He cursed himself for not making you change while he still had the chance. He didn't want to be cruel, you were so excited to wear your new dress. It was a pink gingham number – it was so you. What he didn't like was how your chest spilled out of the low neckline and how anytime you shifted in just the right way your sheer panties were on display. He wanted to cry upon noticing how see-through your panties were – there was no mistaking the outline of your plump cheeks. Did you not know how many creeps there were in this world? Did he protect you so well that you were blissfully unaware of the dangers of looking this good? Tempting any man that is so fortunate to breathe the same air as you.

All throughout the day Geto followed closely behind you, shielding what he could of your body while trying not to make it obvious. You didn’t really notice what he had been doing until his hand reached to cover your chest from the employee at your check-out lane when you bent over; looking at the cute bracelets set up on the counter in front of you. You slowly stood up straight, giving him an odd look as he pocketed his credit card and grabbed your bag of items from the clerk. “What was that about?” you asked him while walking out of the store.

“Nothing baby,” he said from close behind you, your multiple bags in his arms, “Let’s go get you a latte.”

“Ooo that sounds good,” you mused, daydreaming which flavor syrup you wanted before you quickly snapped out of it, “Don’t change the subject! Why did you cover my chest? Is it really that noticeable?” You ask, looking down to see your cleavage spilling out the top of your dress. “It’s not that bad…” An exasperated sigh left his lips, seemingly exhausted by spending the whole day trying to keep you modest. ��Geto? Does my dress upset you?” you stopped in the middle of the mall, turning around to meet his dead eyes. Your brows furrowed, noticing just how tense Geto was compared to when you first arrived. “Do you not like my dress?” your voice is drenched in worry.

“No baby, your dress is very pretty,” he meant it, your dress looked amazing on you. But that was just the problem he was having. “You look good… Just a little too good, y’know?” he forced a chuckle, trying to convince you that he was less upset than he really was. The two of you had been there for three hours, and for three hours he was at war with every guy’s wandering eyes. He had endured three hours of men checking you out, some were so indiscreet about it that the handles of your shopping bags were barely managing to keep the straps under his tight grasp. “Let’s get you a drink and head home, hmm?” he said, pulling together all of his energy to sound fine.

𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

Even after a couple of hours went by at your shared place, Suguru still looked as wound up as he did at the mall. He sat on the couch, drinking a beer and staring at the show on the tv, obviously not really watching it. His grip on the beer bottle was loose, only sipping it when he remembered it was in his hand.

You grew more and more worried as time passed. You lost the outfit as soon as you got home, opting for pajama shorts and a long sleeved shirt – hoping that he would forget about whatever issue he had with your dress if he no longer had to look at it. That didn’t seem to be the case.

“Sugu?” you barely said above a whisper, “Is everything okay?” he only hummed at you, not taking his eyes off the screen. “Do you want to talk about it?” you meekly asked. His head shook while he took another lazy sip of his beer. You bit your lip in thought, taking in his still tensed figure that leaned back into the couch. He never changed out of his jeans and black tee, opting to prioritize drinking over unwinding for the day in his usual sweatpants attire. An idea came to you while your eyes trailed his figure, and you hesitated before speaking. “Do you want your cock in my mouth, Suguru?”

He nearly choked on his beer hearing your words, turning to see your face. You looked desperate to hear his response, so eager to hear you can please him. “Of course,” was his response to you, he could never turn that down. You crawled down from the couch and placed yourself between his legs. He sat up, moving to the edge to make it easier for you to reach. He pitched a tent almost immediately seeing you between his thighs. You began to undo his belt, working slowly as he watched with bated breath.

“Will this be a good apology, Sugu?” your doe eyes met his and you can see him melt at your words. He takes his bottom lip between his teeth, waiting patiently as you pull down his zipper. He lifts his hips off the couch, helping you slide his pants all the way off. You rub his cock over his briefs, slowly stroking it and watching the fabric grow a wet patch. You decide it best not to tease for too long, so you pull his cock out and run your thumb across his wet tip.

“F-fuck,” he sighed, his hips following you as you began to stroke his cock. You twisted your wrist as you slid your hand up his length, teasing the head with your thumb each time you reached the top. He watched you behind his lidded eyes, waiting to feel the warmth of your throat. He dropped his beer onto the end table, preferring to stroke your hair as your wet tongue reached out to lick a fat stripe from the base of his cock to the tip. He groaned at the feeling, leaning back as your mouth finally took him in. You started slow, only taking him halfway and stroking the half that was left out with your hand. It wasn’t long before Suguru started his usual dirty talk that made you squirm. “You feel so good, princess,” he grunted, “This is what I deserved after a long day of putting up with you, hmm?” His hips bucked up, his tip hitting the roof of your mouth. “Having to keep you safe because you wanted to dress like a slut,” his other hand reached down to pull up his shirt, exposing his toned stomach that flexed every time you showed his tip extra attention. You licked the slit, pulling back just to spit all over it and using your hand to guide the lubricant down. He shuddered as you took more of him into your mouth, massaging his length with your tongue as his tip neared further down your throat. “Just couldn’t help showing yourself off,” he let loose his frustrations while his dick was stuffed in your mouth, preventing you from talking back. “Gotta suck my cock to make it up to me, princess,” he snickered. “You’ll do a good job? Hmm? Take me all the way?” it was your turn to react to the pleasure he was giving you. The way he talked to you always riled you up, his words always going straight to your clit. You shifted on your knees, desperately trying to give yourself any form of relief. As if he knew, his foot reached out for you and you took it, rubbing your clit shamelessly against the spot where his ankle and foot met. He laughed darkly at you, completely in awe as he watched you hump his foot while you drooled around his cock. “Look at you baby,” he purred at you, “Getting off to sucking my cock…” his Adam apple bobbed in his throat while he tried to collect himself before he came too soon. Your tight shorts were already growing wet as you rutted into him, sucking him even more feverishly. You took all of him, your eyes watering at the heavy feeling against your tongue and in your throat. “Fuck your throat feels so good. S’warm and wet,” he was moaning now, not capable of keeping it back anymore. “Almost as good as your little pussy… too bad she doesn’t deserve my cock right now…” you whined at his words, causing you to gag against his cock. You pulled back, coughing and wiping the tears from your eyes. “Am I too big for you, princess? Can’t take it?” he teased and you shook your head, readying yourself to go back down. Instead he guides you back, standing up and pulling his briefs completely off. “Gonna fuck your mouth, okay?” he asks you and you nod, moving in to take him back in your mouth. As soon as his tip hits your tongue he is pushing himself all the way in, gripping your hair and shoving his cock down your throat at a brutal pace. You feel his trimmed hair tickle your nose with each thrust of his hips. Your cheeks were covered in tears and drool seeped from your lips and onto your chin. “You’re so good t’me,” he moaned out, throwing his head back as he used your throat. His hips stuttered and you felt his dick twitch in your throat, you could tell he was close. “You’re gonna swallow it all… else you’re gonna have to try again until you get it right. Fuckkk, can’t waste a drop,” you dug your nails into his thighs, waiting eagerly for him to reach his peak. Eager to taste his salty cum.

When he finally came you did as you were told, cleaning up anything that spilled out with your fingers, before popping it back into your mouth. “Such a good girl,” he murmured to you, smoothing out the hair he roughed up previously. “So beautiful,” his dark eyes showed nothing but adoration for you, kissing your forehead as he spoke, “A little too beautiful…”

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itsangelll · 8 months ago

Text

𝐼𝓃𝑒𝓍𝓅𝑒𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓃𝒸𝑒𝒹 ❦

request or ask: “okay so like imagine f reader sucking on Tom’s fingers and calling him daddy we need a fic out of this”

pairings:2010 Tom x freader

warnings:finger sucking, teasing, briefly daddy mention don’t like don’t read.

A/n:guys this is crazy 3 fics out in a span of 3 weeks?? Must be back in my active era also I need to suck on his fingers fuck he’s so pretty. I hope you all enjoy cuties!! creds to @iwinbin for the divider

Under 15 Do not interact please.

Don’t steal or copy my work thank you.

You took a breath as you kneeled yourself infront of Tom, obviously you’ve had sex with him before and other times but you’ve never sucked a cock before you didn’t really think it was that important? you never told him that.

Tom’s fingers gently made their way down to your jaw. “You don’t look too ready for this liebe have you never sucked a dick before?” He laughed, “Uh no i didn’t well no one ever wanted to me too I guess.” You replied bluntly, Tom just looked at you a bit stunned but quickly nodded he lifted you back up on your feet.

Tom sat you on the bed with him sitting next to you “Well for practice why don’t you try sucking on my fingers?” His fingers tracing the outline of your soft plump lips, you looked at him your expression weary but who were you to say no?

“Open your mouth for me schatzi” his fingers tapping on your bottom lip, you didn’t know what to think he had such long fingers you were worried you were going to choke on them. (who wouldn’t be.) Knowing the asshole Tom can be that’d be his goal in end. “Come on sweet girl open up I want to see that pretty mouth of yours to good use.” his voice growing on a slight edge of frustration.

Hopefully not getting him more pissed off you slowly parted your lips, Tom carefully placed two fingers into your mouth gently massaging your tongue and the roof of your mouth he set a slow and smooth pace not trying to fully get you gagging. His other hand caressed your cheek for some slight comfort.

You didn’t know how to feel his fingers were quite long and they repeatedly hit the back of the throat causing a whine out of you, “Aw I haven’t even sticked a third finger in yet and you’re already whining” he cooed teasingly, you gave him a glare since you couldn’t say much. Tom then stuck a third finger in your mouth his fingers now forcefully stretching your mouth out.

His fingers were basically down your throat at this point you were fully gagging on his fingers, drool was now leaking out of your mouth tears were in your eyes so you know what else he did the prick went even harder, “Such a good girl for daddy hm? You’ll be taking my cock soon enough” he breathed out its like he’s never seen such a beautiful sight.

You tapped him on the thigh begging him to slow down but he just grinned his fingers went at a brutal pace now your cheeks were flushed your mouth was getting more sore by the minute whines and whimpers kept escaping your lips, Tom’s long fingers kept hitting the back of your throat while thrusting in and out of your mouth.

A minute later Tom’s fingers left your mouth with a slick pop his fingers coated in your salvia, you took a breath of fresh air your fingers carefully massaging your jaw, Tom got up from the bed his eyes locking with yours and you noticed the boner in his jeans, “You don’t think I’d only let you just suck on my fingers tonight?” Oh boy.

A/n:I hope you all enjoyed cuties I’m very proud of this keep sending requests in I love you all mwah!! <3

Taglist:

@itsmealaiahh @chinoslefttoehair @bambiwrites @jadedchar @memzyyy @ayeshascorner @jun3ee @rottinglilys @t0msvi4gra

#tokio hotel #itsangelll #tom kaulitz #billkaulitz #georg listing #gustav schäfer #tokio hotel x reader #tom kaulitz smut #smut #2010s

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jobean12-blog · 11 months ago

Text

In the Middle of Somewhere

Pairing: Joel Miller x female reader

Word Count: 1,003

Summary: You and Joel are searching for shelter for the night and come across something unexpected.

Author's Note: A few friends have shared the list of 'Reverse Trope Writing Prompts" and I couldn't get over a few of them, especially the "too many beds," one. Thought this would work well with Joel in this setting. Thank you so much for reading! Much love always! ❤��❤️❤️Divider by the lovely Daisy @firefly-graphics 🥰thank you! I'll share the list below the cut at the end of the fic.

Warnings: it's fluffy floof and Joel is soft

Pedro Pascal Character Masterlist

The forest seems to holds it’s breath as dusk falls, the rustling leaves and singing birds hushing to a soft murmur. You cling to the fabric of Joel’s flannel, pressed close to his back as he walks cautiously over the dense underbrush.

“How great would it be if we found a treehouse?” you say, trying to keep your voice light even as your eyes dart through the impending darkness.

The trees cast elongated shadows along the ground, their bright green leaves blackening against the deepening purple of the sky.

“I just hope we find somethin’ before the rain,” Joel mutters.

The air is thick with the promise of an oncoming storm and every now and then the distant rumble of thunder echoes through the woods.

You shiver and he stops, turning to look at you with a softness in his eyes.

“Are you cold?”

You swallow hard, wanting nothing more than to be wrapped in the safety and warmth of his arms but instead you shake your head no and give him your best reassuring smile.

He studies you, his eyes narrowing and his jaw working hard with the grind of his teeth.

“We’ll find somethin’ soon darlin’.”

After walking for another mile or so you spot a clearing up ahead and you can just make out the outline of several small structures.

“Are those….,” you start, clutching his bicep tighter, “cabins?”

He stops and nudges you behind him.

“Wait here. I’m goin’ to get a closer look.”

“Joel…”

“If anything goes wrong you run.”

Your fingers dig into his arm.

“Darlin’,” he pleads.

He reaches around to run his large hand across your lower back, checking for the gun he gave you.

“Promise me,” he whispers.

“Ok,” you answer after a moment of silence.

He stares for longer than necessary and just as he starts to turn away you grab his face in your hands and softly kiss the corner of his mouth. His eyes are closed with you pull away and when they open again you whisper, “be careful.”

With a nod he quietly moves away from you, motioning to a nearby tree. You move out of sight, your eyes tracking his movement from behind the large trunk as he slowly approaches the cabins.

After what feels like an eternity you see him emerge from the third and last cabin, his steps quick and sure as he walks back to you.

“It’s all clear,” he explains with a relieved exhale. “Let’s take the middle one.”

He takes your hand in his and leads you up the old and worn wooden stairs, glancing around one last time before pushing the door open to reveal an open space with high ceilings and four sets of bunk beds.

“What the…” you trail off, staring unblinking at all the beds.

“Probably a sleepaway camp,” he says with a small sideways smile. “We got lucky.”

You drop your bag to the floor and look around, trying to decide which bed to take and finally picking the top bed of the bunk in the far corner. You step onto the ladder to try it out.

Sturdy.

You throw him a smile and climb up to the top.

“I’ve never slept in a bunk bed before,” you admit.

He’s quiet before replying, “actually, me either.”

Once you’ve had a quick meal you hear the first drop of rain, the rhythm quickly becoming relentless against the wooden roof. Outside, the darkness is dense, the thick rain clouds obscuring almost all the starlight and moon glow.

Lying in bed sleep eludes you as your mind remains alert despite the hour. Each flash of lightning briefly illuminates the cabin, casting eerie shadows that dance across the walls before fading back into darkness.

You toss and turn on the hard wood, searching for comfort.

“Can’t sleep?” Joel asks from the other side of the room.

“No,” you answer softly. “Sorry if I’m keeping you up.”

When he doesn’t answer you let out a quiet sigh and curl your arms around yourself.

The sound of wood creaking makes you sit up with a gasp but when you realize it’s only Joel climbing the ladder you let out a rush of air.

“You could have said you were coming up here,” you tease.

“I’m coming up,” he counters, and even though you can’t see his face you can hear the mirth in his tone.

Your only reply is a light chuckle as you shift over to the far side of the small bed and he climbs in, lying on his side to face you.

“What was wrong with your bed?” you ask.

His hand reaches out across the darkness and closes around your fingers.

“You weren’t in it.”

The palm of your free hand presses to his chest before your fingers curl into his shirt. He tugs you closer, circling one arm around you while the other rests between your bodies, your fingers still entwined with his. When your knee nudges against his he hitches his thigh over yours, surrounding you in exactly what you need.

You nuzzle your face into his neck with a soft inhale then press a delicate kiss just under his jaw. He exhales your name and dips his head to find your lips, capturing them gently at first.

The rain has begun to dissipate and a steady breeze carries the clouds from the sky, revealing the bright moon. It’s light filters through the opaque glass windows, highlighting the features of his face.

At his tentative expression you slowly brush your thumb across his lips, smiling when he kisses the pad of your finger. Your touch continues, tracing his scruffy jaw before taking his face in your hand and bringing his mouth closer.

He presses another gentle kiss to your lips and slides his hand along your waist, tucking you into the curve of his body. A whimper leaves your throat and he groans at the sound, taking the opportunity to deepen the kiss and press you harder against him.

@hiddles-rose @kmc1989 @lorilane33 @littleseasiren @lizette50

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal #joel miller x female reader #joel miller imagine #the last of us #too many beds #pedro pascal x reader #reverse tropes

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sinsofnivan · 4 months ago

Note

I just read intoxication, I’m on my knees begging for you to write more Krauser. Could literally be anything and I will eat it up you write him so good. Really looking forward to your future works🖤🖤🖤

MATCH MADE IN HELL! — Jack Krauser x YOU!

SUMMARY: it's always bugged krauser how he could easily melt under your touch. that tough exterior—gone—the moment your lips wrap around his cock. at first he was confused with the moans that wanted to leave his scarred mouth, confused that his blowjob was ten times better than the previous ones, confused that his eyes actually wanted to roll back to the pits of his sockets. but he's grown to love it, more than he actually expected—because he was seeing you almost everyday.

PAIRING: JACK KRAUSER/you.

WARNINGS: oral fixations, slight post-orgasm torture, cock worship?, body worship, cockdrunk reader, size difference female reader, nsfw themes, obviously, possessive krauser, bro is in love with the readussy (and the reader too, of course.), size difference, krauser has a big fat monster veiny cock, being friends w benefits w krauser, au where krauser lives, krauser is also really needy and really nasty like, nasty nasty in this fic

WORD COUNT: 2259

A/N: y'all krauser has been fine since the first game TELL ME I'M WRONGGGGGGG.

NSFW UNDER THE CUT!

"oh fuck . . "

the feeling of your mouth wrapping around him was heaven. it's so soft, so fucking warm, and krauser couldn't help but let out a guttural moan. "mm," there hummed the pretty woman beneath him: you. the apple of his eye, the only source of his desires. you held his girthy cock from the base, slowly taking him in. "jus' like that, baby." his impatience gets the best of him, and he ends up pushing your head forward. the tip of his cock is just past your tongue, and you end up gagging, coughing out a thick coat of spit.

he groans, mouth left open as his dick twitched in your throat. why is it everything that you did turned him on? he hated it. hated how he needed you. how he wanted you for himself. "s , sorry, babe—shit!" you didn't allow him to finish his apology as you sheathed his cock deep in your throat; 'til your nose was firmly pressed against his bush, 'til his balls covered your already spit-soaked chin.

it takes everything in him to not cum—because for once, he actually wants to savour you. (and he won't admit it, he cums so fast with you . . ) his lips quivered, and you begin to bob your head at a steady pace. "mmh. . . mfff," you obscenely moaned against his cock, hollowing your cheeks as much as you could. "you're such a fucking . . dirty girl," he growled, running his scarred digits through his aurum hair.

nevermind the burn on your knees. it was easy to ignore the aches when krauser whined your name so sinfully good. it only encourages you to pick up the speed, letting out these gagging noises everytime his tip’s by the back of your throat. his built thighs are caressed by you, palm running over every scar, every outline of his quads, juxtaposed by the harsh lines branded by your nails. krauser winced, but soon grinned.

you began to practically fuck your throat against his veiny cock, jaw aching from how wide you have to open those pretty lips. gods, you drove him crazy, already feeling the orgasm quickly creeping up on him. "baby—, wait," he growled, putting a hand on top of your head to try and "stop" you, but he couldn't. you only hummed, reaching for his balls and squeezing. "stop––fuck, stop. 'm gonna cum,"

well, that was the point!

instead, you'd knead his balls again, trying your best to maintain the rapid pace you've initiated, and krauser hisses at your hardheadedness. "Y/N, 'm serious—fuck, fuuuuck, i'm gonna cum, i'm cumming—!" his grip tightens, and it's just second-nature for you to force his throbbing cock deep in your throat as his cum spurts in thick amounts. his hips stuttered, and krauser doesn't let you pull away, even when you coughed, even when you gagged, even when you were tapping his leg for air.

"bad girls don't get to breathe," he growled, keeping your head in place with one hand. "you're so fucking stubborn. can't wait to be a little cockslut for me? huh?" you whined, your spit leaking nonstop from his balls and from the sides of your mouth. his cock slides out from your mouth, and you wanted to catch your breath, but he had other plans; spit-covered shaft resting on your face and letting your own sloppy mess smear all over you. "you're so fucking filthy, baby," he groaned, watching you lick the underside, all the way down, down to his balls.

fingers delicately stroke the sensitive tip, earning a growl from your krauser whilst your fingertips teased him over and over; taking one of his balls in your mouth and sucking. he was fucking whimpering, cock still sensitive, but it felt so, so good. you were addicted, and so was he. "you're so—," so good. so fucking amazing. "you're so fucking bratty, god," he had to practically pry your mouth off of him, and you only pressed kisses on his tip. "'m soooorry," you muttered against his cock, smiling so deceivingly sweet at him. "y'know i love your cock, i can't help it . . "

you sweet thing—krauser could never resist you. not with your eyes peering up at him like that, not with you wrapping your lips around his girth again; he pushes almost every strand of hair out of the way, your soft locks now bundled up in his fist on the back of your head as he guides his cock back in. "i'll give you want, slut," he growled, shoving it back in with a loud moan. his balls slap against your chin, and you only whimpered, a hand dipping to rub messy circles on your cunt.

"this is what you wanted, right?"

his thrusts began, and they're just as spiteful as he is—with every drive of his hips stimulating your gag reflexes. "wanted to be—fuck. . facefucked like a—like a dirty whore," the last words were punctuated with hard slams, and krauser only laughed when he sees those pretty irises roll to the back of your head. "couldn't fuckin' wait, could you?" he chuckled darkly, holding your head down and rendering you immobile. you choked, grunting and whimpering, breath laboured as you struggled to breathe through your nose, but . . but . . your fingers kept rubbing against your aching clit, still so needy just for him.

"you're choking but still rubbing your cunt—? look at you, god, look at you. you're so fucking slutty."

krauser grants you reprieve, pulling out of your throat and letting you breathe. "there you go, baby. breathe. breathe," the fastened hold on your head loosens, and krauser cradled your face, wiping off your filthy tears. "still with me?" you feel his thumb on your lips, and he knew it was a yes when you let your mouth envelop the thick phalange. "my orally fixated girl," krauser laughed, retiring his hand from your face. "c'mere." helping you get up from the floor, krauser gently held you by the neck as he captured your lips, uncaring if he could taste his cum on your tongue, uncaring if he could smell his own scent on you. (that drove him wild, actually . . )

his tongue is practically in your mouth, kissing you with urgency as if it was the first time he's got you in a liplock. calloused hands roam your body, starting from your waist all the way down to your hips and rear where he possessively squeezed it in both his hands, making you squeak. he could easily manhandle you, and he did; breaking the kiss so he could hold you up by your legs and bring you to the bed.

"krauser," you croaked, getting comfortable on the mattress. "i'm horny—need you to fuck me," "i know, baby," krauser's on his knees, the mattress dipping from his weight. "hips up," he impatiently tugged on your panties, and he drooled when he sees your transparent essence clinging on to the fabric of your undergarment. "so wet, all from having your throat fucked?" he grinned, teasing your slit with his middle finger. "uh-huh," you nodded, because, well, it was true!

y'can't wait to be fucked, and you're just so lucky that krauser can't wait to fuck you, the blonde grabbing ahold of your ankles as his dick rests against your mons—you bit your lip, seeing how the tip was so close to reaching your navel. "keep these open," he growled, moving his hips so the head of his cock would prod against your slit. "you want this? beg."

the squelching sounds from beneath you are lewd as he slapped his cock against your dripping pussy. "please, krauser," you whined. "i need you to fuck me," "beg haaaarder, c'mon. my girl can do better than that," he began to rub the head of his girth against your clit, strings of his pre were clinging on to both your sensitive tips. "need you to fuck me please—have your cock stretch my cunt, please, please,"

holding his lipstick-stained base, his hips move slowly, cock slowly slipping past your soaked folds; the first stretch is fucking heaven, and krauser grinned when he feels your legs quiver. his hold's back on your ankles, not even waiting for you to fully adjust as he buried his cock deep, deep into your pretty pussy. the stretch burns so, so good.

it didn't even take him more than a second as he began to pound into you, driving his cock as deep as he could—which he did successfully, seeing as to how he could see the subtle bulge from your lower tummy; he soaked up sight of you beneath him. "hnng—! fuck!" you cried out, as he grabbed your waist to pin you in place. "so biiig . . " you held on to the sheets as he rammed into you mercilessly. "yeah? you can take it. you're—h, haah . . you're my girl, y'can take it."

you're just as wrapped around his finger as he is around yours, because him calling you his girl makes you whimper, makes you clench around his thick cock. "yeah? yeah, you fucking like that, huh?" cocky bastard; like he wasn't just whimpering for you a few minutes ago. but, he fucked you so good—filled you up so fucking good.

"so wet, god. no one else can have you . . " he growled. the last part was supposed to be just whispered to himself, but you lovedliked it. he became territorial, your moans grew louder, and your pussy just reflexed around him. it was cute. your waist is freed, and the pillows beside you dip as krauser caged you with his muscular arms. you pout when his thrusts stopped, but embraced him with your arms. "why'd you stop?" you huffed, and krauser just clicked his tongue. "shh. mouth open," he commands, and you do so without hesitation—even sticking your tongue out for him—and krauser's quick to spit in that pretty mouth.

krauser's balls twitched. fuck . . you really are his girl. he leans in to kiss you, beginning to ram into you faster. harder. for being such a good girl. "mphh!" your cries of bliss are swallowed by his lips, nails painfully dragging over his scarred, built back. your legs would flail with every thrust, your heels smacking against the dimples on his back everytime, but, fuck, who cares. krauser didn't care. he wouldn't give a fuck if you bit him, scratched him, cut him.

"say you love my cock," krauser whispered against your skin, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses on your cheek, jaw, and neck where he took the liberty to brand you with his teeth. "i love you—your cock, krauser. so much. 'm addicted," you were addicted alright, craning your neck for him as you let your eyes roll back. "yeah? you're addicted? me too, baby." he chuckled, lapping up the sweat. he's fucking nasty, god.

his kisses moved to your collarbones, while he began to grope your pretty tits. how could he neglect these. "love your body, these tits, this fucking pussy," he looked up at you, and you were so beautiful succumbing to the pleasure that he gives you. the pleasure that only he could give you. all this praise from him—you can only take so much—feeling the familiar coil in your stomach tighten. and at this point, krauser has your body memorized. he can feel it, when you're writhing more than usual, wailing louder than usual. "i love all these reactions. i just know your body so well, baby. you love it when i press . . "

you know exactly what he wanted to do, and you knew it would be your undoing, but you couldn't stop him even if you wanted to. you feel yourself squirm—feeling slightly ticklish—as he caressed your chest, your stomach, and then pressed at the spot just below your tummy, where he could feel the bump of his cock. this makes your body quiver—eyes wide at him as if you weren't expecting it, and his thrusts never faltered.

"here."

"krauser—♡!"

your orgasm takes you by surprise, cunt gushing all over him as he continued his pounding. "see? you're cumming already." "fuck—fuck! h-hngggggh!" you whimpered, holding onto him tight. "keep cumming. fuck, Y/N, you're so fucking—haah . . messy," "thank you—thank youuu. ♡!" the thought of someone else witnessing your pure, unadulterated lust made him definitely mad, rutting desperately into you as if he wanted you to remember the shape of him. "i f-fucking love you—i love fucking you,"

and unfortunately for you, because you were too impatient earlier, he was nowhere near done, not even the ache of an orgasm creeping his mind. meanwhile, you easily fell apart when the hand pressing down on your tummy began to toy with your clit. he knew how to touch you, where to touch you—how could you not come undone? "krausheer—-♡ g'nna cum again," "yeah, go ahead. that's it, baby. keep squirting—you just love my cock that much, huh?" he grinned cruelly, adoring how you thrashed from overstimulation, all dumb with your mind turned to mush. pleasure fills you everywhere, causing your back to curve and arch as you're sent over the edge again.

he mercifully lets you recuperate from your orgasms with slowing thrusts, eyes skimming over your mien. were you hurt? conscious? "still with me?" he asked in between gasps of air, voice gruff. you only nod, too fucked out. his cock's still deep in you, still painfully hard, still aching for you. "we can stop if you want," "noo," you huffed—only locking your legs around him tighter. krauser was pretty surprised, but he didn't complain.

"you're such a freak, Y/N."

end.

A/N: thank you so much for reading! i really appreciate all your support! this will soon be crossposted on ao3. i am still sort of studying so very slow updates! but i've seen your requests and i have heard you all. more to come SOON!!!

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mixtape-0325 · 1 year ago

Text

Testosterone

Stray Kids; Hwang Hyunjin x M. reader (18+)

Word count: 1k

Content: Hyunjin leads, dirty talk incl. quite a bit on stretching the reader, mxm incl. oral and anal sex, cum swallowing, spit as lube, spanking.

We need more male reader fics even if the community is smaller, so I hope you enjoy this one 🖤

"Please baby, stop teasing", you beg at him as your length had already grown hard between you and your boyfriend. His perfectly shaped lips continuously pressed against your inner thigh that you could just imagine already what they would feel like on you. His arm went through the opening of your shorts on the other side, resting dangerously close to the base of your length. It wasn't just mean, Hyunjin knew what he was doing and he knew it had a big effect on you.

You reached out to him and brushed his hair out of his face, holding it tightly into a ponytail as he let his mouth hover over the outline of your hard cock that stretched the fabric of your soft shorts. He never pressed a kiss to the fabric, instead smirking at you as his eyes met yours.

"B-baby...", you spoke as you felt your length twitch between your legs. Hyunjin noticed your little desperate movement, but only chuckled to himself before backing up his actions and moving his hands to your waist instead.

"Up", he said confidently. You lifted your hips up from the bed to let him take your shorts off, no boxers underneath making everything even easier. He hummed in satisfaction as he saw your cock fully hard, veins along the side, the tip already more brightly red than normal, a few drops of pre cum leaking past your slit. All because of him. He pushed one of his hands against your abdomen, having you slightly lean back to rest on your elbows rather than sit down.

"You want me?", he asked teasingly, one of his palms moving up your thigh as the other ghosted over his own length. It made you think of his cock, the details of it, the length, how you wondered if you could ever take all.

"Want my mouth baby?", he continued before pressing a kiss to your tip, then letting his warm tongue brush over your sensitive slit to collect the pre cum leaking from it. His knees were tightly pressed against the floor beneath you, making you even more eager to have him.

"B-baby if you don't a-anytime soon i'll be the one f-fucking you today", you teased seconds before his big lips wrapped around the head of your cock fully. And within seconds he was taking more, filling his throat with you. And fuck, did his mouth feel good. He knew how to make it just the right amount of tight, and god does he make it wet. Strings of saliva connect to him whenever he moves away for a brief moment, only to take every inch again and bob his head on your cock.

"Y-yeah, keep going", you breathe heavily as he speeds up and the room fills with sloppy, wet sounds. Hyunjin never gags on you once, and not cause you're not a prominent size yourself, but because he has trained his throat with you so well that he can take you perfectly.

It doesn't take long until you're close to release, and Hyunjin uses his hand to jerk you your last way to climax. His tongue lays under your tip to catch every last drop of your cum to swallow, and his hands equally hold your body firm to the bed as it twitches with every new spurt.

Hyunjin chuckled as he watched you catch your breath, knees lifting from the floor to hover over your figure instead. He pressed a deep kiss to your lips, giving you a hint of your own taste. Without having much time to think, his hands were on your hips again and helped you up with him, bodies tightly pressed against each other. His hips grinded into yours, lips hovered over your neck as he eagerly took control over your body once again, this time for his sake.

"Turn around, baby", he whispers seductively into your ear before kissing your earlobe, a sensitive spot for many men like you. When you did as told just a little too slowly for his liking, his grip on you becomes stronger and Hyunjin pushed you over the edge of the bed in a rush. His palm held your back down so he could press himself against your ass, his free hand guiding his long, hard cock to your rim. His next hum was one much more deep, much louder.

Hyunjin let the head of his cock push past your rim, spit dropping from his mouth straight onto himself to smoothen the process. "aa-ah, fuck yeah", he groaned as he watched your hole take him with a slight struggle.

A smack against your ass followed, as Hyunjin brought himself into a mindset he didn't get out of anytime soon. You hummed in pleasure with every hit that followed, jolting forward at the impact and the burn.

"Fuck me", you begged to encourage his own lust further, that waited patiently all evening for any real pleasure himself. "Every inch baby", he replied as he pushed into you further with a groan. "Gonna make you take it all".

Hyunjin's hand once again pressed you down onto the bed, a strong grip onto your body as he thrusted forward for you to take more of him at once. "a-ahh shit, yeah, that's it, little more", and with a few more thrusts he filled you completely, and god was it overstimulating, so much, but so good.

A moan fell from your lips with every slight readjustment of his position, stretching you further. You could just sense him smirking behind you, and you weren't wrong.

You let out another moan as you felt his wet finger tease your rim, pulling at the skin and applying pressure that had you seeing stars with already being filled to your max. "s-so tight...", he whispered.

Hyunjin's hips started to move, earning gasps from you at the feeling that only became stronger as he sped up in no time. "Gonna fuck you so good, baby, fuck you open".

622 notes · View notes

magicshopaholic · 6 months ago

Text

Part 1: A Rainy Day

Summary: Namjoon is on holiday with his girlfriend - and without Namjoon, all hell breaks loose.

Pairing: OT7 x OC (different OCs)

Genre: Humour, fluff, angst, chaos

Word count: 6.9 K

Rating: 18+

Warnings: language

A/N: I can't believe we're finally here! This fic has been in mind for so long, slowly evolving from a concept with a soundtrack to a whole outline and now to a complete half of a fic! Everything from the song to the situation to the leap that most of the characters will take feel like a milestone, so here's hoping it's a good one *insert gatsby meme*

The teaser to this fic got a lot of reactions :D so to make it worth the anticipation, this will be split into two parts. It is set a week or so after Dinner at the Kangs'. Enjoy!

Tagging: @bbl32@quarter-life-crisis2@dreaming-with-happiness@faearchives@margopinkerton@purpleseoul7@confessionsofamarshlily @jiminjhang @xjoonchildx @tarahardcore @infinitehobi @handfullofcandids @whoisbts @kflixnet (drop a message if you want to be added)

Listen to: “bittersweet symphony" by the verve

teaser | main masterlist

November in Seoul rolls around unexpectedly soon and occupies its usual position: a harbinger of the cold and white winter months, making the heat and humidity of summer a distant memory.

With BTS’s world tour officially at an end, followed by its normal uptick in concert clips and dance challenges floating around the internet while the company celebrates amidst figurative piles of cash, the members finally have the luxury of a few weeks off work where seeing them off stage and in casuals is the new novelty.

This includes Namjoon as well. After a tumultuous year of heartbreak and pain and longing, along with the real and genuine fear that he may have to give up the girl of his dreams due to extenuating circumstances, he and Kaya mutually decide that they need time away to reconnect with each other. Leaving behind their homes in Seoul and Amsterdam respectively, they reunite at Auckland Airport from where they take a cab in relative anonymity to begin their vacation.

With Namjoon gone, the company automatically takes it easy on the group as well. With Namjoon gone, the members manage to relax, able to keep an additional distance between them and the company before work inevitably starts again and the nomadic life of sleepless nights, dance practices and event appearances resurface.

Perhaps they underestimate their leader’s role in their lives, or it simply does not occur to them just how dependent they all are on each other after a decade of working, living and breathing in synchronicity. Namjoon is only gone for three weeks in total - but with Namjoon gone, all hell breaks loose.

With Namjoon gone, one member crosses a line.

With Namjoon gone, one member unintentionally makes a mess.

With Namjoon gone, one member makes a joke without realising its consequences.

With Namjoon gone, one member does something he’s ashamed of.

And with Namjoon gone, two members kiss someone they shouldn’t.

—

“Screen, food, lights - check.” Jimin tucks his bottom lip between his teeth as he frowns at his phone screen, eyes flitting between it and the writing pad he’s hastily scribbling on. “Need to pick up the champagne - oi, Jungkook, can you give me a ride to the liquor store? My car is getting serviced this weekend.”

“What about your Toyota?”

“It’s at my apartment. That’s farther than the liquor store.”

Jungkook pauses and looks up from the stove, across the kitchen island from Jimin. “Wait, the liquor store is in the building. Why do you need -”

“Not that liquor store,” interrupts Jimin patiently. “I need to go to the one in Gangnam, which has the tasting menu and assortments.”

“Why -“

“Because it’s Sooah’s birthday,” answers Taehyung from where he’s lying down on the sofa, scrolling through his phone and not bothering to look up. “Normal champagne won’t cut it. Not for Kim Sooah.”

Hoseok frowns, coming up from behind Jimin and peering at the writing pad. “Why not? Wait - why do you need professional lighting and sound equipment?” he asks, reading from it. “And food from Golden Pig? I thought the lunch was at MOBO Bar. Hang on -“ He looks bewildered. “Isn’t her birthday tomorrow?”

“The lunch tomorrow is for all her friends,” supplies Jungkook, pouring a steaming pot of cooked ramen into a bowl. “Tonight is just hyung and Sooah.”

“Yes, and don’t anyone be late tomorrow.” Jimin reminds them in a business-like tone, continuing to check things on his phone and tick them off. “I know you guys have to film a thing tomorrow morning, but make sure you come straight there. And, seriously - can anyone drive me to the liquor store or not?”

“I have a Zoom meeting starting in five minutes,” says Hoseok, clapping him on the back, “or I totally would. What about Yoongi?”

“He’s not here. He left for a meeting in Incheon this morning,” chimes in Jungkook again. “Won’t be back until later.”

“How much later -” Hoseok starts to ask, but is cut off by Jimin huffing.

“So no one can take me to the liquor store?” he demands. “Which is, like, twenty minutes away? I wish Namjoon hyung were here,” he adds sullenly, shaking his head. “He would’ve driven me.”

“Oh, don’t be dramatic,” says Hoseok indulgently. “Taehyung, you can take him. Your car has a ton of extra space, too.”

“I’m busy,” answers Taehyung listlessly, still on his phone. When no one responds, he looks up to see all the other three staring at him. “Fine, I guess I could,” he agrees with a huge sigh, clambering off the sofa and trudging to the dining table, sliding into the seat adjacent to Jimin’s.

Jimin narrows his eyes. “It’s not such a big deal, you know. You can just give me your keys if you want.”

“Yeah, why are you in such a mood today, anyway?” Hoseok asks, his hands on the back of Jimin’s chair.

“‘M sorry,” he mumbles, running his hands over his unwashed face. “I’m just…” He shakes his head and takes a deep breath, closing his eyes. “Hungry, I guess.”

“Hungry?”

“That’s code for horny,” says Jimin, raising his eyebrows nonchalantly when Taehyung looks up to glare at him, but doesn’t disagree.

Hoseok snorts as Jungkook joins them with his ramen, silently sitting across from Taehyung. “That must be some dry spell if you can’t help out your buddy,” he says, a bit pointedly.

Taehyung observes Jimin for a moment, then sighs. “You know what? You’re right. Let’s go to the liquor store. I’ll help you look for the best champagne out there - and since you’re not driving, you can try every single thing on the tasting menu,” he offers in a moment of generosity.

Jimin’s head snaps up from his phone. “Really?” When Taehyung nods, relief floods his cherubic face. “Thank God. Because I - I really need tonight to be absolutely perfect -”

“I know, I know,” interrupts Taehyung, clapping him on the shoulder and standing up. “I’ll just grab a quick shower and we’ll go. Jungkook,” he says, waiting for the younger member to look up in surprise. “Want to come along?”

Jungkook, who’s polished most of his bowl clean by now, looks up at him with wide eyes. “Me?”

“Yeah,” answers Taehyung evenly. “Why not?”

There’s a flicker of doubt in Jungkook’s eyes which he seems to partially blink away. “Yeah. Yeah, no, yeah - I mean - sure.” He scoops up a large bite of noodles with his chopsticks and inhales it. “Jus’ give me a minute,” he says through a mouthful of food.

Taehyung nods. “Ramen looks good,” he says after a moment. “Can I have a bite?”

Jungkook nods instantly and pushes the bowl across the table. Taehyung takes a bite, slurping the sauce until he’s swallowed the entire thing. “Delicious,” he says honestly, waiting just long enough to see Jungkook smile before turning around and heading into his room.

—

“This one’s fruity,” decides Jimin, smacking his lips and frowning seriously. He places the small glass down and picks up another, giving it a sniff and proceeding to take a sip. “But this one is definitely more bubbly.”

It takes a lot for a liquor store to provide a tasting menu for champagne, but for the correct price, it can be done. Taehyung isn’t entirely sure how much Jimin has paid for this particular round of testers but he gives his honest opinions, careful to keep his friend’s spirits high for today.

It hadn’t occurred to him back at the house, but it seems obvious now why Jimin is so anxious about tonight. If Taehyung’s hunch is correct, it’s because it’s Sooah’s first birthday since they’ve gotten back together after years of sniping and occasionally hooking up, and Jimin has taken on the pressure to make it perfect to the next level.

“I like this one.” Jungkook points to a bottle on the shelf. “We had it after the last concert, remember?”

Jimin looks up briefly and shakes his head. “Chandon is the last resort, if I find nothing better today. Come on, it’s Sooah’s birthday. Chandon is way too basic.”

Jungkook raises his eyebrows but says nothing, his eyes meeting Taehyung’s, who takes his hunch to be correct.

“I’m going to go see if there are any other bottles at the back,” says Taehyung, leaving Jimin to overthink the little glasses of bubbly liquid. He stops by one of the staff and leans in. “Can you bill a Chandon anyway?” he asks in a low voice. “Just in case?”

“Of course. Should I combine it with Mr Park’s other purchases?”

Taehyung shakes his head. “Put it on my tab.”

The staff nods and takes a bottle up to the register as Taehyung turns the corner to another shelf full of champagne, Jungkook a few steps behind him.

“That was nice,” he comments, hovering at the edge of the shelf.

“He deserves it,” mutters Taehyung, feeling slightly guilty about his standoffish behaviour at the dorm a little while ago. “Guy’s stressing way too much. I know Sooah will love whatever he’s planning. She’s chill that way.” He pauses. “What is he planning, anyway?”

“I mean, I don’t know all the details but I think it’s one of those movie screening things at the park.”

“In public? At the park? What - are they going to sit in the back and pour out champagne while everyone else is drinking cokes and beers?”

“What? No, he rented out the whole park,” explains Jungkook. “It’s just them, with a huge screen and seating and food - and champagne, I guess. He’s got professional sound equipment and heating and blankets and everything. He really went all out.”

Taehyung stares, a bit horrified but mostly impressed. “Wow. That actually sounds really romantic.”

“It does,” agrees Jungkook absently, peering at the label of a bottle where he’s still standing at the end of the aisle. “I just hope it goes well.”

“So do I. And I hope it doesn’t rain,” he points out. “It’s been drizzling every day and raining in parts of the city. It could really put a damper on the whole outdoor movie thing.”

“Yeah. Hopefully it won’t.”

“Hopefully.”

A slightly awkward silence falls over them. Taehyung glances over at him to see him pick up a bottle of whiskey from the opposite shelf. He turns the bottle over in his hands before looking at the price tag, letting out a low whistle and placing the bottle back.

“What about you?” When Jungkook looks up, Taehyung continues. “Any plans today?”

“Uh, not really.” He pauses. “I have a date, actually. Kind of.”

“Yeah? With the tattoo artist?” When he nods, Taehyung grins. “Nice. Why aren’t you more excited about it, though?”

Jungkook gives a noncommittal shrug. “I don’t know. I was thinking of blowing it off. Going to the gym, maybe. Namjoon hyung usually joins me on Fridays and we spot each other on the bench press but I guess I’ll have to go alone today. Unless you want to come along?” he asks hesitantly.

Taehyung had spent a couple of hours at the gym yesterday but he nods anyway. “I’d love to, but why are you avoiding your date?”

“I’m not avoiding it. I haven’t worked out in, like… three days.”

“So come back and work out.” Taehyung frowns. “I have nothing to do all day so I’ll be here whenever. You may want to go easier on the weights with me, though.”

Jungkook chuckles, sounding relieved. “Give yourself a little more credit than that, hyung.”

“Please. Namjoon broke the lock on my bedroom door with one hand the day he left when he was looking for a spare set of Airpods.” Taehyung shakes his head. “He’s a menace, and he just adds to it whenever he starts working out.”

Jungkook laughs. “We’re definitely less clumsy in the gym than he is, that’s for sure. Is seven pm good for you?”

“Yeah, that’s fine. Dilara has been pestering me to give boxing a shot, so, you know. Tonight might be the night.”

“Oh. Right. Yeah, of course. That’s a good idea. I mean -” He shakes his head, as though getting rid of a fly. “It’s… it’s an idea.”

Taehyung is about to comment on this strange response but notices Jungkook gazing intently at the whiskey shelf again, his ears slightly red, and decides not to.

Ever since the Samsung event nearly a month ago, Jungkook has been almost walking on eggshells around Taehyung. Taehyung wishes he wouldn’t; that night had been awkward at best and contentious at worst, and had been entirely unexpected on various fronts. However, he and Dilara had awoken the next morning in an air of mutual forgiveness and shared an intimate couple of hours before breakfast, filled with silent apologies and hope.

Regarding Jungkook, Taehyung had had every intention of giving him the cold shoulder for a while, at least, still somewhat peeved at the sudden confrontation from his very non-confrontational friend. As it turned out, the moment they’d all reached Seoul and climbed out of their separate SUVs, Jungkook had cornered Taehyung outside their building and begun apologising profusely.

That had taken him more off guard than their argument last night; Taehyung had tried to get a word in amidst the explanations but looking at how horrible Jungkook clearly felt, he hadn’t had the heart to give him any more grief about it. Somehow, the whole situation had ended with Taehyung comforting Jungkook, telling him to forget about it, that he understood he and Dilara were friends.

Jungkook had looked like he wanted to say something more but he’d shook his head instead, and they’d hugged until Dilara stepped out of her SUV. Jungkook had skirted around both of them for the next few days until Dilara had left Seoul, after which Taehyung had gently but categorically told Jungkook to chill out.

He isn’t sure if Jungkook has got the message yet. He thinks he has for the most part; they’ve hung out many times since then, for work, with other friends - but maybe the mention of Dilara has suddenly made him clam up again.

“Sir.” The same store staff who was ringing up the Chandon appears from behind the shelf. “Mr Park has picked out a Cristal that will be delivered to his residence shortly. Anything else I can help you with?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Taehyung starts to say as he and Jungkook begin moving towards the front of the store. As the younger member continues on his way, Taehyung stops. Retracing his steps, he picks up the bottle of whiskey that Jungkook had been examining.

“Can you add this to the Chandon?” he asks, waiting for the store staff to nod before he joins his friends.

—

Seokjin [12:30] Are you working late today?

Seulgi [12:33] Not sure. Why?

Seokjin [12:33] I’m on my way back from Annyeong now so I should be in Seoul in a couple of hours. Wanted to see if you maybe want to go out tonight?

Seulgi [12:36] It’s supposed to pour today. And doesn’t look likely with my calendar anyway.

Seulgi [12:37] But I’ll try, in case something opens up.

Seokjin doesn’t reach Seoul until almost three hours later. The long solo drive was a nice way to get some time to himself, especially with the mild anxiety that had started to creep up over the last couple of days, almost as though he was forgetting something. He would’ve spent a lot less time driving but the traffic was maddening; as per the radio, it was due to people driving in and out of the city for the weekend combined with rain warnings.

He reaches the dorm to find it empty. Ordinarily, he would’ve gone back to his own apartment but something about being back in his childhood home for a week, along with Seulgi’s distant demeanour, makes him want to be around his friends for a little bit.

As it turns out, none of them seem to be home at the moment but he knows they’re here: there’s a bowl in the sink with ramen sauce smeared on it; a Gucci hoodie he knows is Jimin’s is draped over the back of a chair; Taehyung’s bedroom door is slightly ajar, the bedcovers unmade and clearly slept in.

Seokjin sinks onto the sofa and lies down on it, closing his eyes and preparing for a nap. He has no plans for today whatsoever, especially if Seulgi doesn’t get back to him. He isn’t entirely surprised at her mood; ever since he’d ventured into the territory of him and Nari, she’d begun distancing herself from him.

He couldn’t blame her; he had no idea what he was walking into with Nari and the fact that Seulgi had to stand by and wait for him to figure it out would have to rankle. He wasn’t fully surprised when, a couple of days after the fact, she confessed to Seokjin that it wouldn’t be the worst thing to take some time apart.

Sleep doesn’t come to him, not really. He dozes off at least half a dozen times without actually falling asleep, his mind constantly replaying the last few weeks, with that nagging sense of stress and anxiety a constant in his mind. Seokjin lazes around until he marks the attempt futile, just as the front door opens and Jimin strides in with his phone to his ear, followed by Taehyung and Jungkook trooping in behind him.

“Hey, hyung,” they chorus, Jungkook falling onto the sofa next to Seokjin. “When did you get back?”

“Just a little while ago.” Seokjin looks around at them, rubbing his eyes. “Are you guys also staying here this weekend?”

Before any of them can answer, one of the other bedroom doors opens and Hoseok steps out, stretching and yawning. “Hey, hyung. How was the champagne tasting?” he asks Jimin, who holds up a finger as he continues talking.

“Oi, Hobi, you’re here, too?” Seokjin frowns, bewildered. “Wait, have you been here this whole time?”

Hoseok nods and points noncommittally to his bedroom as he walks over to the dining table to peer into a bag that Taehyung has placed on it. “Ooh, Chandon. Is that the one he picked finally?”

“Jimin chose the Cristal,” says Jungkook. “And he’s getting it delivered.”

“He did and it is,” confirms Taehyung, and says no more.

Hoseok raises his eyebrows. “Okay. And what about the Jameson?”

“That’s for Jungkook.”

Hoseok just about catches Jungkook’s surprised look before Seokjin speaks again. “So - wait, I thought Jimin’s lunch was tomorrow.”

“Sooah’s, and yes,” says Jimin, getting off the phone and finally looking up, seeming a bit frazzled. “Tonight is just me and her. There was some kind of confusion with the food,” he says to Taehyung, who’s giving him a questioning look.

“Oh, hey, if Sooah is going to be with you tonight, does that mean Chaeyoung will be home alone?” Hoseok asks.

“I guess,” answers Jimin vaguely as his phone rings again. “Damn it, it’s the park coordinator again.”

“The park?” Seokjin raises his eyebrows sceptically as Jimin takes the call, and turns around to look out the nearest window. “It’s already drizzling. It’s supposed to pour tonight, you know?”

Hoseok shrugs, while Jungkook clicks his tongue. “Doesn’t matter. Jimin is in charge and if he wants to give the birthday girl a night in the park, he’s going to make sure it happens.”

And suddenly, Seokjin knows what he’s been forgetting.

—

“Okay, wait.” Jimin exhales sharply and closes his eyes. “You said that you do have an option of a makeshift roof or something - but now you’re saying you don’t want to do it? I put a deposit down on the whole place,” he reminds him.

“Mr Park, I’m saying we can do it but I don’t recommend it,” says the coordinator patiently. “We use that for light drizzles or snowfall but the downpour that’s been predicted will render it useless.”

“There’s been a downpour predicted every single day of this week and nothing has happened,” he points out. “I’m okay to take that risk.”

“It’s not just the furniture, Mr Park.” The coordinator sounds mildly stern now. “It’s a lot of expensive sound equipment as well and I cannot, in good conscience, risk having it outside -“

“Okay.” Jimin interrupts him, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to think. “What if we moved it to slightly earlier?”

“It’s already drizzling, sir.”

“Fine, do you have a different spot in the park?” He asks through gritted teeth. “Something more canopied, perhaps?”

The coordinator hums vaguely and there’s the clicking of a keyboard in the background. Jimin rolls his eyes at Taehyung, who’s approaching him with a questioning look, and mutes the call.

“I’m going to kill this guy,” he mutters, shaking his head. “I've been planning this for a month and he’s pulling the rug out from under me now?”

“I mean, he may have a point. If it rains then your plan is ruined - but it’ll probably stop in a bit,” Taehyung adds hastily when Jimin glowers.

“God, I hope so,” he says, although even he is starting to think that it might not. “I can handle a slight change of plan with the venue but the rest of it has to be perfect. There’s the food and the cake, and - oh, did the champagne arrive?”

“Er, not yet.” Taehyung checks his watch. “They said they would send it in an hour, right? Should’ve been here by now.”

Jimin is about to swear but just then, the park coordinator says something. He waves Taehyung away, accepting an encouraging clap on the back, and gets back on the call.

“Sir, we might have something on the other side of the park,” he suggests hesitantly. “The view is not the same, but it fits the general requirement.”

“The view - you mean it doesn’t have a view of the Han.” Jimin takes a deep breath, preparing to choose his battles. “Okay. What is this other side of the park? Where - how - I mean, what does it look like?”

“It’s in a way that the screen and the projector and all the sound equipment will be protected, but you and your companion will still be able to enjoy the beautiful outdoors.”

Jimin frowns. “How -“ Somehow, all he’s able to picture is some kind of garage where everything is stuffed in and just two lawn chairs and dragged out onto the grass.

“It’s available for inspection now, sir. But we don’t have a lot of time as we need to confirm the booking at least two hours before the actual event in order to make preparations.”

Jimin’s eyes widen and he lunges after Taehyung, grabbing his hand and checking his watch. “It’s almost five pm! I was supposed to have the venue from seven pm anyway!”

“You are an esteemed client, Mr Park, so we can make that exception. Our staff is very efficient and can help you -“

He resists the urge to scream over the phone at someone who, at the end of the day, is just doing his job.

“I’ll be there,” he says quickly and hangs up. “Okay, I’m heading out,” he adds to nobody in particular, but Taehyung follows him into his room anyway.

“Everything okay?” he asks, stopping at the doorway.

“No. Actually, you know what? Yes,” says Jimin firmly, shedding his clothes and throwing on the outfit he was planning to wear (comfortable jeans and a Louis Vuitton jacket, plus a Gucci hoodie of his that Sooah loves to snuggle in). “It will be okay because there’s really no other option.”

“Look, I’m sure it’ll work out fine, but… I mean, I’m sure Sooah will appreciate the thought no matter how it goes,” he reasons.

“You know, I’m sure she will,” agrees Jimin hurriedly, “but I need this to be more than just a thought. Okay? Because this is - this is -” He struggles for a few moments before giving up. “This is Kim Sooah,” he says finally.

Taehyung looks like he wants to say something but instead he simply nods. “Okay, go, then. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Yeah - can you bring the champagne down there once it gets delivered?” he asks immediately, rushing out of the room and gathering his phone and keys. “The food and cake will come there directly - hang on, I need to check out -” He fishes out his phone and makes a call, tucking the phone in between his ear and shoulder.

They reach the living room and Jimin scans it to see Hoseok, Seokjin and Jungkook in front of the television, sharing a large bowl of popcorn while a football match goes on.

“Jungkook, I’m taking your car.” Jimin grabs a bunch of keys from the side table and, without waiting for a response, dashes out of the front door.

The park coordinator may not have been completely wrong; the rain is already at a steady speed, enough that most people have pulled out their umbrellas and the roads are starting to get jammed. He drives to the park anyway, a little unsettled at seeing it completely empty this time of day, leaves the Gucci hoodie in the backseat and runs inside towards the office.

The coordinator seems to be waiting for him. “Right this way, Mr Park,” he says immediately, barely giving Jimin time to run a hand through his damp blond hair before ushering him out under a black umbrella.

“This is the alternative?” Jimin asks a few minutes later, staring up at the thick cloth separating them from the rain.

“Yes - now I know it’s not probably what you pictured but it’s the best we can do in such short notice, Mr Park.”

“Actually, this is exactly what I pictured,” he murmurs, heart sinking. It does look like a makeshift garage in front of them, like something he would’ve planned back when they were in high school, using a bedsheet for a screen and a Bluetooth speaker for an innovative night out, with instant ramen and cokes. He’d hoped that now, all these years later, they were finally due for an upgrade - but the universe clearly had other plans.

Okay, Jimin. Stop whining. Just think. He takes a deep breath and turns around, wincing a little and trying to ignore how the rain is getting louder by the minute.

“Okay, so it’s… five-thirty,” he says. “Sooah will be here by seven which gives me just enough time to follow up on the food and drinks. What?” he asks, when the coordinator’s assistant looks confused.

“Well, it’s - it’s just -” She stutters, pushing her glasses up her nose. “Won’t the food get ruined, sir?”

“Why will it -” Jimin stops, closing his eyes. The rain. “Fuck me,” he mutters under his breath.

“Sir, we can arrange for a table next to the screen under the roof so you and your friend can come up and take your food and go back outside -” He stops abruptly when he sees Jimin’s incredulous expression. “I mean… it could be like a buffet,” he reasons in a small voice.

“It won’t be anything like a buffet. Sir, come on -” He sighs, at his wit’s end and getting anxious. “Can’t we get - I don’t know - something stronger up there to protect us from the rain? The screen, projector, electronics - all of that is going to be under the roof. The sound is going to be compromised because of the rain anyway - can’t we just get a slightly stronger thing above our heads so the food doesn’t have to move, too?”

The coordinator starts to say something sympathetic when Jimin’s phone rings. He apologises and picks it up immediately. “Taehyung! Come to the other end of the park - no, not that side. The side by the exit parking lot.” He stays on the phone for another minute until he spots Taehyung jogging up the path with an umbrella in one hand and a plain tote bag in the other that Jimin assumes contains the champagne.

“Thank God,” he sighs, shoving his phone back in his pocket as Taehyung reaches him.

“Okay, listen -” Taehyung holds up a hand. “Don’t freak out. But I think when you gave the liquor store your address, you gave them your apartment and not the dorm. But - “ He says loudly, preempting Jimin’s heart stopping in his chest, “I got this as a backup,” he says, retrieving a bottle of Chandon from the bag.

It’s not what Jimin had chosen but the fact that something has found a solution is more than he could hope for right now. In a moment of emotion, he hugs Taehyung tightly.

“Alright,” says Taehyung gruffly, patting him on the back. “Come on now, you have things to do, Jimin. Oh, speaking of which,” he adds as Jimin steps away, “Sooah called me a little while ago. I don’t know if she was looking for hints or what, but I told her you’re working really hard at it.”

“You did?” Jimin can’t decide if this is a good thing. “Alright. Well. Got to get it done, then, I guess.”

“It’ll be great. Don’t worry.”

There’s a clap of thunder and they both jump. Taehyung opens his mouth, clearly looking for words of comfort but eventually gives up. Giving Jimin another pat on the shoulder, he hurries away in the rain, the umbrella barely helping anymore.

—

Stepping out of a hot shower, steam still rising from the bathroom behind him, Seokjin ties a towel around his waist and enters his room. The moment he does, the first thing he sees is the view outside the window, with rain lashing down the city. He stares at it, horridly fascinated, when he remembers.

He sits on his bed, glad he’s in the warmth of the dorm, and makes a phone call.

“Hey,” he says, glad she picked up on the second ring. “How are you?”

“Fine,” says Seulgi, but she doesn’t sound curt. “You?”

“I’m okay. What about you? Are you still at Big Hit?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Uh, have you looked outside?”

“Oh. That.” Seulgi sighs. “Yeah, it looks pretty bad. But I still have work to get done so I’m stuck here for a while no matter what. All I can do is hope the rain stops sometime tonight.”

“The forecast says it’s going to go on really late,” points out Seokjin, peering out of the window uneasily again. “I can barely see the river from my window anymore. It wouldn’t be a bad idea to get home now before it gets worse. I can pick you up,” he offers.

“No. I mean - no, thank you,” she amends, her voice softening a bit. “I told you, I have a ton of work to get done. There are still two whole meetings to go - I don’t think I’ll be able to leave before ten, no matter what.”

“But it’ll get actively dangerous to commute in worse rain than this,” he argues. “The company should care about an employee’s wellbeing over a meeting.”

She scoffs. “You work for the same company, Seokjin,” she reminds him. “How many times have they prioritised your wellbeing over a work commitment?”

To this, Seokjin has no answer. “You have a point,” he admits grudgingly, and is heartened to hear her chuckle. “Okay, but can you tell me whenever your meetings do end? I’ll pick you up - and I’ll drop you to your place,” he clarifies quickly. “If that’s what you want.”

Seulgi doesn’t reply for a few seconds. “Seokjin,” she says carefully, but then sighs. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do but I don’t know if…”

He waits for her to continue but when she doesn’t, he speaks. “Look, I’m not trying anything,” he says, turning away from the window and feeling the same guilt he’s felt around her for weeks now. “But these are special circumstances. I mean, I don’t know if you have a window anywhere around you, but it is insane out there right now.”

“Alright,” she says, but she doesn’t sound convinced. “I’ll let you know. Chances are, the rain will stop.”

“Let me know either way.” Seokjin waits until she hangs up, not really sure what he was expecting from this exchange. Seulgi wasn’t off base at all; apart from the rain, the constant nagging guilt at putting her through this period of doubt definitely played a part.

He isn’t any closer to figuring out his stance with Nari. Seulgi feels far away, farther away than a girlfriend should. It’s a mess and all he can do now is wait.

The rain pours harder, the sky darkening and thunder deafening. Jungkook is lazing around the house, doing laundry and other chores while Taehyung is video calling a friend who’s working abroad. Hoseok is a ball of nervous energy, mentioning more than once that he hopes Chaeyoung is okay in the storm and safe at home.

Seokjin just waits, until a couple of hours later, Seulgi finally lets him know.

Seulgi [20:00] Hey. So my second meeting hasn’t even started yet and I think the company has finally caught on to the situation outside. Apparently they got a government advisory about the storm and that it’s only going to get worse.

Seokjin [20:01] So… what? They’re not letting you leave?

Seulgi [20:02] They’re advising us not to. And honestly, I don’t think anyone should be outside in this rain. Apparently parts of the city are losing electricity, too - another team was supposed to have a work dinner in Hongdae but it got cancelled because the whole restaurant shut down.

Seokjin [20:03] How will you get home then?

Seulgi [20:03] They’ve set up rooms here - I think they’ve repurposed the resting rooms that the idols use on the top floor for the rest of us mere mortals. It’s not ideal but it’s better than trying to go out there.

Seokjin bites his lip. It sounds rather like she’s made a decision, albeit grudgingly, and in typical Seulgi fashion, has told him subtly not to bother coming over. It’s hard to argue when she hasn’t said it in so many words, and even harder to justify an argument while being able to hear the wind outside.

“What are you guys planning to do for the rest of the night?” Seokjin asks, looking up at the others.

“Not sure,” answers Taehyung, getting up from where he was lying on the sofa and walking towards the kitchen. “Lazy night in, I think. Jungkook has a date, though,” he adds, grinning.

Hoseok whistles teasingly as Jungkook chuckles, his ears going slightly red. “I do but it’s raining so hard. I’ll probably have to cancel,” he says, giving Taehyung a sheepish smile that Seokjin doesn’t fully understand.

“Okay, so that’s two. Hobi?” Seokjin taps his watch. “What about you?”

“Oh, uh…” Hoseok shakes his head, looking a bit distracted. “Not sure. Why?”

“Just - just curious. Seulgi was just saying that there’s an advisory about the storm floating around and Hongdae has lost power or something, so in case any of you have plans…”

Hoseok’s face goes slack. “Hongdae lost power?”

“Well, one restaurant in Hongdae lost power as far as I know -”

“Chaeyoung lives near Hongdae,” mutters Hoseok, tapping furiously on his phone before putting it to his ear. “Sooah is out with Jimin so she’s probably alone…” He taps his foot impatiently for a few seconds before swearing. “She isn’t picking up.”

“Maybe it’s a signal issue,” Jungkook starts to say, but Hoseok is already off the sofa and grabbing a jacket. “Wait, where are you going?”

“To check on Chaeyoung,” he answers bluntly, rummaging for his car keys in the bowl on the mantle and dashing out of the apartment without any further explanation, the door slamming shut behind him.

Seokjin’s heart races; it’s a gale out there, but this is a sign. Chaeyoung must matter that much to Hoseok, if the decision was that quick for him. He checks his watch again to see it’s a quarter past eight. He traces the familiar route in his mind, calculating how much longer it will probably take him to get there than the average day.

Something clicks and he hurries up off the couch as well, pulling his shoes on before the other two even seem to realise that something has happened.

“Wait, where are you -”

Taehyung is cut off by the front door slamming shut for the second time. Seokjin hurries down the hall, checking his pocket for his phone and keys as he takes the elevator to the basement car parking.

If he had been amazed by the rain from inside the three storey dorm in Hannam Hill, he wasn’t ready for the real thing. The moment he pulls his car out of the parking lot and above ground, the sound of the rain hitting the roof of his car is like gunshots. For a moment, he considers reversing and doing this another day but the fact of the matter is that today is the day.

In the distance, he sees what could be another set of headlights turning down a path and out of the main gates that he guesses is Hoseok. Making up his mind, he heads out, trying to drive as carefully as possible in the severely compromised visibility of the streets.

The roads are largely empty save for buses, some taxis and cars that seem to be desperate to get done with the night. Despite knowing the route like the back of his hand, Seokjin plugs in his phone and turns on the map in case there are road blockages, and starts driving.

He has no idea what Big Hit can possibly do when it comes to building any sort of nightly camp for its employees in the office. All these years, his attempt has remained to stay as far away from that artificially lit building as he possibly can, preferring to cling on to the vestiges of normal life outside of it.

Namjoon will know. The answer comes easily to him and even though the leader is on holiday, Seokjin decides this is enough of an emergency to disturb him during it. He calls him and waits, still driving through the rain as best as he can, the roads flowing and reflecting the street lamps, the sheets of rain falling with a vengeance.

Namjoon doesn’t answer, possibly because it's his last few hours of vacation. Swearing uncharacteristically, Seokjin dials the next best person. The line crackles and a woman’s voice, a bit far away, sounds abruptly before another takes its place.

“Hello?”

“Yoongi,” says Seokjin gratefully, swerving down a lane and wincing as he splashes a row of bikes parked along the side of the road. “Listen - have you ever seen the resting rooms on the top floor of the company building?”

There are sounds at the other end, of similar rain and splashing water. The woman’s voice floats again, a soft “Shit” in the background before Yoongi speaks.

“What?”

“The resting rooms on the top floor,” repeats Seokjin urgently, honking at what he thinks might be another car coming the opposite way. The side mirrors are completely useless by now. “Have you seen them? What are they like?”

“Oh, that? The ones for the idols?” There’s a screeching sound on the other end and Yoongi swears this time. “They’re fine, I guess. I’ve crashed there a couple times after all-nighters.”

“Really?” Relief washes over Seokjin but before he can say anything further, the voice at the other pierces the air.

“Yoongi - that’s a tree!”

“Fuck!” Another screeching sound, a loud one, and then silence. “Uh… hyung,” says Yoongi, sounding uncertain. “I’m going to have to call you back.”

The line goes silent but Seokjin has what he wants. He just hopes Yoongi is okay and makes a mental note to call him in a little while as he pulls onto Hangang-daero, passing building after building - museums, a school, the ramen joint where he and Seulgi had first gone to almost a year ago… he keeps going, barely able to see the flyover in front of him through the rain. His wipers work overtime as he passes the last building before the bridge, seeing the company logo flash momentarily in his rearview mirror before it disappears.

The areas off the main road are darker somehow, the roads narrower, trees thicker and the rain seeming even more stifling. But the closer Seokjin gets, the more he’s convinced that he’s made the right decision. He parks the car in his regular spot and, holding his hood over his head, sprints across the street as the raindrops pelt him until he enters the building, already fairly wet.

He doesn’t dither; running upstairs to the first floor, he knocks on the door, thankful that there’s a sliver of light underneath. Behind him, the storm rages on. As he waits, Seokjin turns to look outside the window in the corridor, seeing small gusts of wind and trees moving with the force. Twenty seconds and his socks and shoes are drenched; he slides open the window slightly and immediately backs away, the wind and droplets hitting him instantly.

The sound of the door opening is the only thing louder to him than the rain. He turns around, his heart hammering.

“Seokjin?” Nari frowns, in a college hoodie and faded jeans, thick socks on her feet. Her hair falls unbrushed down her shoulders and she’s clutching a sheaf of papers in one hand. “What are you doing here?”

He wants to smile; it’s automatic, so he does. Taking a step forward, he thanks his stars he decided to leave the dorm, rain be damned.

“Hi, Nari,” he says, watching her forehead clear just a little bit. “Happy birthday.”

—

Thanks for reading. Don't forget to drop a review :)

#bts fanfic #thebtswritersclub #bangtanwhq #k-vanity #houseofddaeng #wkcnet #namjoon x oc #seokjin x oc #yoongi x oc #hoseok x oc #jimin x oc #jungkook x oc #taehyung x oc

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kettleinusefornow · 4 days ago

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Rough ride..MDNI

CHAPTER 7

Sae Itoshi X Reader fic

Contains breakup and miscommunication

Revenge sex

Iceskater!reader

eventual happy ending </3

teenage love

ALOT of angst

CHP1 CHP8 CHP LIST

CHAPTER 7: Nerve wrecking

The two arrived at a random hotel, Aiku checked in at the front desk, Y/N stood below the big bright chandelier that hung from the middle of the room. She stared at her feet, fidgeting with her bracelet.

A silver bracelet.. Which was a gift from someone, someone that wanted to celebrate her 12th birthday. The hotel seemed quite fancy, it was filled with people in suits, and fancy dresses. Looked like it would cost 50000 yen just for one night.. Perks of a footballer?

‘What's taking so long? Is he flirting with the receptionist?’

Y/N sighed, starting to zone out again, she blinked, only to be met with those same weird eyes again.

‘Dafuq. That scared me, why does this guy keep trying to look into my eyes.’

“Let’s go up now.”

He practically announced before just taking off, she followed him into the golden elevator, it seemed to be quite in contrast to the white wedding hall lobby, the checkered flooring made it really feel like a lavish place, paired with gold borders around the small place.

The doors closed, it was awfully quiet, she wanted to talk to him. The stiff movements of her trying to fix her hair out of nervousness only filled the air with more awkwardness. She glanced at him.

Before she could glance at him again, a force pushed at her body and mouth. An arm wrapping around her waist, another pushing her neck towards him. His tongue pushed its way inside, almost like he was devouring her. Her arms went on either side of his shoulder.

Aiku’s tongue slowly outlined her lips before fully pulling back, she was breathless by the time he pulled away. He licks a wet trail down her neck..

‘Damn.. That’s a kiss alright, it feels like my body is hanging over a pointed knife..’

“Tastes like cherry.. Thought you weren’t a virgin.. Guess not?”

Y/N smiled nervously before answering in a slightly shaky manner.

“Is it that obvious..”

“Well, you seem way too tense to be used to this. Well I guess I’m honored?”

She let out a sigh as the elevator door opened, revealing a dark hallway. He yanked her hand, dragging her to room 116. The door swung open, closing just as fast.

“Impatient much?-”

Aiku threw her into the bed, soon after getting on top. The room seemed to balance a minimalistic and sharp look. Having a black finish to the furniture, and a window covered about half the room, giving a wide view of the night skyline that encapsulated many colours. Just the light from outside was enough to give the room a bluish grey tone.

Above him was the drop ceiling which had some drop lights. It would be a little hard on the eyes if they were on.

“Are you complaining? Or are you nervous?”

“A little bit of both.. Mainly nervous.”

“I’ll try my best but no promises.”

He bent down to her neck, leaving soft kisses, his hot breath made her slightly tremble. She covered her mouth with the back of her hand.

His hands slowly trailing from her waist to her thighs, he massaged them as he leaned in again, pushing his weight onto her. Instead of pushing him, she got absorbed into him, his half on slowly grinding against her under her skirt.

“Mngh…”

“This damn skirt.”

In one swift, he threw her both her legs on one shoulder, yanking everything but her top off, leaving her bare. She trembled at the cool air now slithering against her. Y/N turned her head to the side while taking off the flowy shirt and slipped off with little effort.

‘This is so damn embarrassing!’

“Woah, wine red combo?”

He slowly slid his finger to the edge of her panties, he pulled the soft material out and ran his index finger up and down the fabric, it hovered a mere inch from her centre. She let out heavy and hot breaths.

He pulled the fabric to one side, bearing her hole to him. Y/N slightly frowned, clearly flustered. He hummed in response to her. He slid in a finger, only to receive a slight jerk from Y/N.

“The fuck..”

“We are just getting started Y/N..”

He dipped his fingers in and out, she shut her eyes, it felt.. Weird, uncomfortable even. It felt different from her doing it on her own..

One finger.. Followed by another one. There was no stopping the shivers that went up and down her spine.

“I-i.. Oliver that’s enough.. It’s weird..”

“Come on, just sit and enjoy..”

Suddenly a ring was heard from beside the bed. His phone vibrated, waiting for him to pick it up.

He glanced at her before smirking and reaching over.

‘This guy..?! Is he going to-’

“Hi, this is Oliver Aiku.”

Y/N enclosed her mouth with both her hands, her eyes widened in the process. He didn’t pulled out his finger though. Burrowing deeper, moving it in and out, the slick gushed out from the side of his fingers onto her thighs.

He motioned a finger to his lips, signalling me to shut up and not make a noise. His actions and gestures really opposed how he acted with his fingers. They only accelerated, poking, curling around everywhere but that spot.

Tears glistened in her eyes. Why did trying to conceal her sounds just become ten times harder.

“Who is this? Itoshi?”

Now both Y/N and AIku were staring at each other from utter shock. Y/N couldn’t begin to comprehend the emotions she started to feel. A heavy feeling formed in her chest, it immediately was forgotten at the movement of his fingers. (Baddie)

“An-angh..!”

“Hm? What sound? I didn’t hear anything. I’ll be at that meeting… I need to go now.. A little kitten is trembling before me.”

—————

Sae on the other end, frowned at his words.

His life hadn’t been the most cheerful in the past few months, he felt like a piece of log drifting away in the water, purely at the mercy of the water around it. This guy wasn’t making it any better.

Ever since Aiku challenged him after their meet, a slight uneasy feeling has been following him. Was it the upcoming match? Maybe, maybe not.

“You have a cat? Whatever.”

—————

The sound of the call ending hit Y/N’s ears. She moaned out in reply. She thought she was gonna die.

“You fucker!”

“Well I’m sorry, who would have thought your ex would call me..”

He pulled out his fingers, which were followed by a string of clear. It earned a flinch from Y/N. He bent down again. The tip of his tongue darted out, trailing my collarbone as he moved down towards my breasts, unhooking them with one hand.

‘Talk about experienced..’

Small gasps escaped her mouth as she heard the sound of a zipper. She tensed up, beads of sweat formed on her forehead as she tried to prepare for whats coming.

“Don’t worry.. I’ll be gentle.”

He took his hard on, sliding a condom on. Y/N glanced down to see what she was dealing with, her eyes widened..

‘The fuck.. What is with that size.. I thought Japanese men were small?!”

He positioned himself.. Before she could protest, she felt length pushing past her folds, just the tip. But it was enough for her to let out a small scream like moan.

“It-It hur-!”

He pushed his hips towards hers in a slow manner, she gripped his shoulder and the bedsheet.

“It’s in.. Fuck…”

He slowly started to move as Y/N let her head fell back, letting another sound escape. After what felt like relentless torment for a few seconds slowly started changing the way it felt. It started to pool a heat in her stomach, she felt herself tighten as he moved in and out.

“I can feel how tight your hole is, fuck you feel good..”

Before she could get used to his movements, his slow gentle thrusts turned into fast, quick paced ones.

“An-ng! Ngh!”

Her suppressed moans were let no matter how hard she tried.

“Y/N.. Hang in there for the night.”

This is probably the second time in my life that I have written smut so BEAR WITH ME CHAT. After CHP 8/9 my uploading might turn into once a week cuz my sch is starting..

©kettleinuse4now | please do not translate, repost, refer without permission | don’t steal and say it’s your own (ahole behavior)

@pinkymangacaps @realrintaro @syleepy @shidoushair

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yanderestarangel · 1 year ago

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can you please write a johnny cage cock warming fic maybe as like a punishment i love your johnny cage so much

TW: afab anatomy, ftm reader, reader wears a dress, v!sex, blowjob, cock warming, hard!dom johnny, toxic relationship, possessive sex, insecurity (on johnny's part), spanking, degradation, dark!johnny cage, smut, porn plot,orgasm denial.

You really loved Cage, however, you couldn't deny how jealous he was sometimes - you could say that the Hollywood actor was crazy about you, completely obsessed.

You went out that night with a dress shorter than normal, you really didn't see anything wrong with such a choice - after all, it was a party with all the best directors and actors - but Johnny did. All the lustful eyes were on you, awakening your boyfriend's fury, insecurity and jealousy.

Johnny Cage soon stormed out of the party with you, pulling you roughly by the wrist to his sports car, driving angrily in silence to his mansion. "-You dirty little bitch," Johnny growled, his voice filled with a mixture of desire and anger, as he directed you upstairs quickly, making you stagger down the smooth marble stairs. "-Walking around in that short dress, tempting every man who sets eyes on you. You wanted their attention, didn't you? Well, now you're going to pay for it."

Without hesitation, he forced you to your knees, holding your hair firmly as he guided his cock towards your waiting mouth. You could feel the undisciplined power in his actions, his dominant and possessive nature taking full control. He rammed his cock hard into your mouth, forcing you to take him deep, gagging you with each powerful movement, your jaw aching from the force he put on his hips - There was no room for tenderness or gentleness, just the raw display of your control - and your submission.

"-You're nothing but a filthy cocksucker," Johnny groaned, taking his cock out of your mouth with a loud pop, slamming his member into your cheek hard, over and over, until your skin was reddened with the outline of his pulsing shaft "-That's all you're good for, isn't it? Pleasing me, worshiping my cock like the needy little slut you are."

Johnny lifted you off the floor, seeing your pussy completely wet and needy, taking two fingers to the thin fabric of your soaked panties, while whispering in your ear "-You like that, don't you?" His voice filled with smug satisfaction. "-You like being fucked hard, being used like the good boy you are. Tell my whore... Tell me how much you love being my fucktoy." You could only moan at the rough treatment of his fingers in your wet entrance, you tried to look everywhere, except at the older man, but this made his excitement and anger worse, he pushed your panties to the side, tearing the fabric and slapping your overstimulated flesh hard.

"-Look at me, you slut", Johnny ordered, removing his fingers from your body and grabbing your cheeks hard, to the point of hurting your face. "-You dressed like that because you wanted to be fucked by other men, didn't you? Admit it...Admit that you're nothing more than a filthy little whore." As Johnny slapped him hard across the face, leaving your cheek red and burning with pain, your words of devotion and loyalty fell on deaf ears.

"-See how desperate you are for me? How eager you are to be used by me. You are mine, sweet boy. Every inch of you." With that, Johnny placed you in his arms, sitting on the nearest surface, while his cock dripped pre semen mixed with your saliva - you could tell that by the look in his eyes, deep in his honey colored eyes, he was unsure, very insecure - with a quick movement, he brought the tip of his thick shaft closer to your aching pussy, slowly entering it while forcing you to look at him again.

"-I swear... I swear on everything honey, that if you leave me like Cris left me..." he pauses for a moment, placing his head in the crook of your neck so that you avoid seeing the tears falling from his eyes. "-I can't lose you baby... I can't." Johnny's grip on you only tightened, his fingers digging into your flesh, marking you as his possession, pleasure and pain mingled together, overwhelming your senses, you felt every pulse and every hot inch of him hit your G-spot with precision, and every time he realized you were going to cum, he pulled out quickly, torturing you and making you beg for more moaning and spilling more and more explanations, however, your attempt to explain yourself was met with disdain and merciless control.

"-I'm going to breed you until you're swollen and dripping with my seed. You'll be begging for mercy, but I won't stop. I'll keep fucking you until you're broken... Every inch of this pussy belongs to me. You're mine, and no one else can ever touch you again." His thrusts intensified, each movement a testament to his desire for complete control over you - the sound of flesh slapping against flesh filled the room, punctuating the symphony of your moans and his primal grunts.

"-You begged for this. You wanted me to fuck you like the obedient little slut you are. And I'm going to give it to you, over and over again until you can't take it anymore." He breathed, his voice filled with both possession and satisfaction, a little choked by the tears that insisted on falling on his face. "-And don't you forget that. You'll always submit to me, my good little hoe." The wave of pleasure that washed over you was like a lightning bolt, electrifying every nerve in your body.

Your pussy clenched around Johnny's cock, the powerful contractions rippling through his body as he roared: "-F-Fuck!C-Cum for Daddy!. I wanted this so much. To feel your body tremble around me, to watch you lose yourself in my touch." With an animalistic growl, Johnny surged forward, burying himself deep within you as his orgasm took hold.

The tight grip of your muscles sent him spiraling into blissful oblivion, the intense sensation igniting his own release. As the waves of pleasure receded, leaving you both spent and breathless, Johnny collapsed onto the bed, still inside you. The intensity of the moment was palpable; sweat dripped your bodies, mixing together in a messy of lust.

"-That was... intense," he managed between gasps for air, his expression softening slightly. "-You okay?"

©YANDERESTARANGEL 2023

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cj-ghostemoji-destielpie · 8 months ago

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⚠️⚠️⚠️PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS IN THE ABOVE SCREENSHOT BEFORE CONTINUING!!! ⚠️⚠️⚠️

This is my fic btw 💖 it'll only get worse. Chapter two will be posted soon and it's... F-d up.

Royal Tastes, by Dragonborn_Eldenlord on AO3.

Chapter 1: The Young King, The Cannibal Knight, The Dead Knight:

Sir Hannibal Lecter. A knight, ruthless and merciless in his quests. Or hunts, as he calls them.

Hannibal was infamous among many kingdoms as the Cannibal Knight, or Hannibal the Cannibal, that ate his enemies as a show of strength; not a popular habit. Most Knights hated or reluctantly accepted their jobs, but he reveled in the bloodshed. The scars, the agony, the screams, the light fading in his victims eyes, blood gurgling from their mouths or dripping from shallow wounds til they slowly bleed out… He saw beauty in it all.

Hannibal was visiting a kingdom he hadn't visited in a good twenty years or more; the Ophiuchus Kingdom, named after the serpent constellation due to the multiple snakes that infest the forests. Ophiuchus was infamous. The past rulers were known for their vicious and violent tactics, for their greed and gluttony. The only reason Hannibal was coming here in the first place was to and get in the good graces of the new ruler, as they had recently had their coronation if rumors were to be believed.

Walking into the throne room, Hannibal noticed the grandiosity of the palace. The new King is obviously doing some remodeling since there's multiple portraits stacked in a corner, many of which are torn. Hanging on the walls in their place are tapestries, animal hides, and furs, making the throne room have more of an animalistic, wild, and feral vibe.

Hannibal noticed the lack of the King as the throne was momentarily empty but he knelt anyway, the dark gray metal of his armor scraping against the expensive tiled floor; dark inky black tile with gold outlines and occasional intricate designs. He kept his head hung low, and soon he heard the footsteps of who he presumed to be the new King.

“Sir Hannibal Lecter, at your service, my Lord,” He greeted, head still positioned towards the dark ground.

"My apologies, Sir Lecter, but I'm not exactly... Educated on the proper etiquette of societal expectations for how I'm supposed to act and talk so I hope you'll be patient with me. Stand. I'm Lokka La’Rose, new King, blah blah blah. Killed the last King because he was a dick, so on and so forth," Lokka says casually as he perches on the arm of the fancy throne, not even looking at Hannibal as the Knight stands, instead he's briefly frowning in distaste at the gawdy throne before finally looking back at Hannibal with curiosity, golden eyes slowly taking in Hannibal's armor clad body and handsome face.

Hannibal stood, looking at the new King now fully. He seemed young. At least, younger than most rulers. If he's an adult it's just barely. His outfit—well, it lacked any form of royalty. Wearing something like that in court would make him the laughing stock of all the nobles. He's dressed in simple hunter-like garbs; a simple dagger on his hip, faded animal hide trousers and shirt. His curly hair is messy but pulled back in a low ponytail to keep it out of his face.

There's an old ugly scar running across his face that somehow danced between both eyes without harming them. And his eyes are peculiar as well; unnatural gold, reflecting all light, and feline-like with slit pupils.

"No worries, there's nothing wrong with not knowing etiquette. You’ll learn, it’ll feel like second nature in no time at all, Your Highness,” Hannibal studies the scars on the young King's face, "May I ask how you got those?”

"The scar? I was eight years old, a starving orphan, tried stealing from some noble man and he actually noticed and decided to teach me a lesson. Left me with a scar so I'd be reminded of the consequences of theft. Instead it just reminded me of the power imbalance in the Kingdom and the greed of the rich.”

Hannibal stayed silent for a moment, his eyes locked onto the other man. He studied the scar again, as it ran across his face in a jagged line. It had clearly scarred over years ago, but it still looked quite prominent. He knew the old King, and he was a greedy man, for sure. He thought the entire Kingdom was a piece of him to flaunt around. And many of his nobles had the same mentality.

"I see. You didn’t deserve that, child," He said the word in a somewhat condescending tone, though his facial expressions didn’t change from their almost emotionless state.

A small quiet huff of amusement escapes the King, “So, what are you here for? You requested an audience with the King. I know I'm not probably who you expected but I suppose I can still hear your piece and possibly assist.”

Hannibal smirked at his slight amusement, finding the King somewhat amusing. He began to circle around the throne, eyeing the golden details. He then came back to the front of the throne, locking eyes with the young King who'd allowed the Knight to pace and circle around him, looking entirely unthreatened.

"I didn't expect y ou , no," He paused for a moment, "Though I heard that you killed the last King. Tell me, was it worth it?”

Lokka tilts his head in thought, ".... worth it for the people....perhaps not for me though. I didn't want to be King. I just wanted there to be change. But no one else had the power to do it.”

Hannibal nodded slightly, silently admiring his slight vulnerability. He seemed to have thought about it a lot. He crossed his arms behind his back, shifting his weight to one foot. He seemed to look him up and down again before speaking again.

"You did this for the people, not yourself. That’s very admirable, Lord La’Rose.”

"Thank you, but please, just call me Lokka. I'm still not used to that title… and you're interesting enough to keep around and befriend.”

"Very well, Lokka ."

The way Hannibal says the King’s name makes the young King shiver and his cat-like pupils dilate.

Hannibal tilted his head downwards slightly, his arms behind his back casually and nonthreatening but somehow still imposing. The boy seemed somewhat shy, but somewhat confident, at least for speaking to a Knight that was feared by many for his bloodthirsty killing. He took a few steps closer to the throne.

"How old are you, if you don't mind me asking?”

“17,” The young King states simply.

Hannibal nodded as an indication of acknowledgement, slightly impressed that he had managed to kill a man—let alone a King—at that age. There was clearly a lot of determination and courage, perhaps some foolish bravery as well. He took another few steps, now being a few feet away from the throne.

"Ah. Young and full of life," He teases.

Lokka gives a small playful smirk, "I've heard of you, Sir Lecter. Hannibal the Cannibal . The Cannibal Knight . Are you here to add another man to your diet or are you after something else? I'm not easy to kill so I'd think twice if I were you,” His tone isn't threatening, just playful but with a hint of promise.

Hannibal chuckled dryly at Lokka’s comment, his hands still behind his back. Hannibal seemed amused by Lokka, intrigued even. Lokka was a curious thing.

" You're smarter than you look, kid ," He paused for a moment, looking into his odd eyes, before continuing, "And you seem a tad bit cocky for a young Lord.”

“Fake it til you make it," He says with a simple shrug, a hint of insecurity in his strange eyes.

Hannibal chuckled, noting a hint of vulnerability in his eyes. He tilted his head to the side, studying him a little closer.

"You're not confident, are you?" He teased him, finding a way to get under the new king’s skin.

Lokka shrugs, unperturbed, “No, I'm not. But I'm stubborn and spiteful so I'm planning on sticking around as King for a long time. At least until I find a suitable heir."

Hannibal hummed in acknowledgement, somewhat impressed by Lokka's determination and stubbornness. He seemed like a boy filled with ambition and power…and yet so vulnerable. So…breakable.

He'll be fun to break . Hannibal thinks to himself with a secret smile.

" And when you find that suitable heir, will you simply pass the throne over to them without a fight?" Hannibal asked, taking a small jab at him.

"I'll train them, have them educated on the life of the nobles and the poor, make sure they have decent morals and a support system, and then I'll peacefully step down, give them the throne when they're ready, and perhaps stick around as an advisor or something if needed.”

Hannibal’s eyebrows raised slightly, impressed by his thought-out plan. He had clearly thought it through for a while, which he respected.

"So you already have a plan in mind, that's quite…ingenious." He paused for a moment, "And you're sure they’ll be fit enough to rule your kingdom?”

"I've no idea. Haven't met a suitable heir yet. Enough about that though. What is it you wished to accomplish with your audience with the King, Sir Lecter?”

Hannibal chuckled at him, slightly amused. Lokka was clearly done talking about the subject for now, which Hannibal was willing to respect. Sometimes you have to play the long game when playing with a new toy you wish to enjoy breaking.

"Ah. Straight to the point. I like you, Lokka." He commented, now towering over the shorter man, "I simply came to offer my services to you—to the kingdom, I mean.”

Lokka gives Hannibal a small playful smile, not bothered at all with Hannibal towering over him- most Kings would've had Hannibal thrown out for the attempt at appearing imposing or threatening, instead Lokka just peers up at Hannibal in amused interest, "You wish to be my knight?" He basically purrs sweetly.

Hannibal found Lokka's lack of fear for him amusing, almost down right hilarious. Most rulers would be intimidated by a man like him, but the boy didn’t even seem slightly bothered by it. Hannibal found it quite interesting.

"Yes, of course," He said, somewhat amused. "I am the best in my field. You’d be unwise to decline my services, kid.”

Lokka chuckles, "Most would be practically begging or at least respectful when offering their services to a King, even a young and naive King enjoys respect instead of being called a kid," Lokka says with a playful smile, casually crossing his legs as he remains perched on the arm of the throne.

Lokka studies Hannibal for a long few moments, golden cat-eyes piercing and intelligent as he takes Hannibal in, like a wild cat studying its prey. Slowly he returns his gaze to Hannibal’s.

"Ask again." He says, a small smirk tugging his lip, “maybe with a pretty please ?" He asks, basically taunting Hannibal.

Hannibal was taken somewhat aback by his request, his eyes widening a slight bit. He had expected him to be polite and shy in his response, not demanding and confident. Hannibal’s smug expression soon faded away, the slight teasing look still in his eyes.

"My apologies," He began, his expression almost blank by now, "I'll be respectful , like you'd like."

He took a deep breath, knowing he was going to hate it.

"May I please be your Knight, Your Majesty, Lokka ?”

Lokka giggles in honest amusement, golden eyes lighting up with joy before he schools his expression.

"hm...no," He says before smiling again. "I'm not going to waste your services as a common Knight. If you'd like to work for me, I'd rather you be my main security. Top knight, Housecarl, or whatever the fancy noble terminology is. I've heard of your skills and I'd love to see them in person. I've had multiple attempts on my life within just a week so I imagine you'll get a chance to prove yourself interesting . If you grow bored of being a bodyguard, then I suppose I can send you out to play with the other Knights. Does that sound appealing enough to you, Sir Hannibal Lecter ?”

Hannibal’s eyebrows shot up at Lokka's words, surprised. He was expecting to be a regular Knight of the castle, which was just fine. But security for the King? That was unexpected, but he was very much intrigued by the offer. And it would make it easier to toy with the King and slowly break him.

"That sounds very appealing," He commented, his smirk returning once again, "I agree to those terms.”

"Good. Splendid. Hope you don't mind explaining the seemingly stupid noble jargon the people here keep expecting me to understand. Do you understand the purpose of so many forks for one meal?" He asks, tone switching from the teasing playful to genuinely open and curious

He chuckled at his question, amused by the King’s clear lack of knowledge of the social rules.

"Of course. And I know the noble jargon.” He explained. "And it’s stupid, honestly. There’s so many rules for a simple meal. A commoner would eat an entire turkey with their hands, while Kings and Queens have to use specific forks and spoons for specific items of a meal. And don’t even dare to use your hands; you’ll be chastised by the etiquette police.”

The King sighs dramatically as he lays across the throne, "Everything has so many ridiculous rules and yet the commoners are more concerned with surviving, which is more understandable. Why so many forks when hands work just fine? It's stupid…”

"I think I'm going to like you, Sir Lecter." The young King says, rolling his head where he lays across the throne to look up at Hannibal.

"Perhaps I may say the same," Hannibal replied, an amused smile tugging at his lips. He studied him for a moment, admiring his confidence, especially for a young king like him.

“ Goddesses ! I need to get rid of this throne !" He jumps off of it dramatically, a good three feet in the air before landing on his feet in a squat like a feral cat before slowly standing like a normal human, "that thing is so ridiculously uncomfortable. And such an eyesore . Like, we get it! This is a throne! But if you're going to show off wealth you may as well use it for something comfortable . Especially if you're expected to sit in the evil thing for days on end and play nice with other nobility.”

Hannibal was surprised by Lokka's sudden outburst and unexpected agility as he jumped from his throne, not expecting him to be nearly as physically adept as he was for a King or a human. He let out a dry chuckle as he stood next to him.

"Most nobles and royalty don’t care about what’s comfortable. They just care about what looks good and makes them look better than everyone else," Hannibal replied dryly.

Lokka huffs and crosses his arms, glaring at the throne like a petulant child who was just told that he has to eat his veggies before dessert, “Well I'm not most kings. If I could have that replaced with a recliner I would... I suppose I'll just settle for having this fancy throne melted down to coins and donated to the commoners, maybe the orphanage. Then I'll just feckin' carve a nice throne from some cherry wood perhaps and get some nice comfy- but I suppose fancy fabric- cushions to line it with."

Hannibal chuckled at Lokka's…rant, finding his determination for a more comfortable throne quite amusing. He tilted his head to the side, studying the younger man.

"A cherry wood chair," He repeated, a single brow quirked, "With plush velvet cushions," He added dryly with a slight tone of mockery. He was clearly holding back his laughter.

The King huffs and throws his hands in the air with dramatic exasperation "Ye have better design ideas, Sir Lecter?”

Hannibal let out a few dry chuckles at his dramatic actions before replying with a smirk.

"Maybe. I was thinking something a little more… aesthetic ," He said, thinking over the design in his mind, "Dark oak. Gold or a dark material for the trimmings. Soft light fur as a cushioning.”

"....I might actually be able to work with that...I'll sketch something up and have you look it over,” the King says after actually seeming to seriously be pondering over Hannibal's words.

Hannibal hummed, finding him quite amusing. Who would’ve thought a newly crowned King would ask for his input on a throne design of all things? Hannibal had to hold back his smirk at Lokka's eagerness.

“Of course. I’ll look it over once you have it sketched up, Lokka.”

"....so," Lokka clasps his hands and rocks slightly in place, "I'm supposed to play nice and be all Kingly for a few more hours today. One of the servants told me that there were a couple different knights and messengers from different kingdoms coming today- aside from you. I was even warned that at least one messenger is going to try and get me to marry some King's daughter from a neighboring kingdom," he says, looking disgusted but hides it mostly, "Are you ready to play advisor/bodyguard today or do you wish to have a servant show you to your new quarters and start tomorrow?”

Hannibal could sense Lokka's disgust in his voice and almost chuckled but contained himself. It seemed he disliked the prospect of having to listen to someone ask him to marry someone’s daughter for political purposes. He smirked, crossing his arms over his chest once again.

"I’m quite ready. And if any messenger does decide to try to convince you to marry an ugly daughter, I’ll be your bodyguard and advisor.”

"I'm not concerned with their looks , I'm just opposed to marrying some girl I don't know nor wish to know ," He says simply, reluctantly sitting back on the throne, though properly this time. He glances at the grand fancy clock across the throne room, "The next person should be here soon. Don't remember if it's a knight or some noble, or a messenger though.”

Hannibal watched as Lokka sat back down on the throne, this time properly. He still found the throne to be a little gaudy looking, no amount of proper sitting would change that. He took a few steps closer to the throne, positioning himself on the right side of him.

"Well, whoever this next person may be, I’ll be right here," He replied, referring to his position beside Lokka.

Lokka gives Hannibal a small smile, "Good boy," He says playfully, but praising, and before Hannibal can snark or react, a servant enters and announces the arrival of another visitor; another Knight.

Hannibal’s smirk quickly faded in surprise with Lokka's playful praise, his cheeks taking on a slight red hue. He was not expecting him to say that, but he quickly shook it off. He refocused his attention back towards the entrance to the throne room as the servant announced the arrival of another Knight. His eyes narrowed slightly as he watched the Knight carefully for his mannerisms.

The Knight was mature in age, probably around Hannibal’s age. His armor was shiny and well-polished; he's probably rather stuffy and hasn't actually seen many battles. He entered the room rather arrogantly—like most Knights were—and began to speak in an overly cocky tone.

“Your majesty, I am Sir Charles,” The Knight said, standing in the middle of the room, not bothering to take a knee or bow or show any respect, making Hannibal curl his lip in distaste.

Lokka tilts his head, studying the man, "Sir Charles... I'm Lord La'Rose. What have you come here to ask of the new King of Ophiuchus?" Lokka asks, all previous playful energy gone, in his place is now a serious calm intelligent King.

Hannibal noticed that Lokka even used his title this time, instead of being casual like Lokka had been with him. The change was sudden. Happened as soon as Sir Charles entered, only a brief moment of Lokka sniffing the air prerequisites his personality shift when Sir Charles entered.

Sir Charles was taken aback by Lokka's sudden and unexpected shift into a completely different person. From a giddy, happy, young King to a stoic, serious individual in a matter of seconds. He paused for a moment, almost intimidated by the change, but eventually responded.

"Well, your majesty, I have come to… congratulate you.” He replied, the word ‘congratulate’ sounding almost bitter coming from his lips.

"hmmm... Is that so? You could've just sent some gift like most of the others singing my praises lately," Lokka doesn't sound cocky despite his words, he actually seems uncomfortable with the thought of being praised for what he'd done, "So, what else is it you wanted from me, Sir Charles, aside from wasting my time?”

Sir Charles was once again taken aback, clearly not expecting the King to brush off his praise and assume he was just there to waste his time. He stood silently for a few moments, almost shocked, before speaking up again.

“I wasn’t just here to give my congratulations, your majesty.” He replied, his tone somewhat snarky and somewhat irritated now. “I also came to request something.”

"speak, no need to dawdle.” Lokka says when Sir Charles doesn't get straight to the point, making Hannibal fight a proud smirk.

Sir Charles let out a snort, crossing his arms over his chest and taking a few steps closer to the King.

“If you’d be so kind, Your Majesty, I was hoping you’d send a few of your troops to help us in a little battle we’re having.” He explained, the tone in his voice still demanding.

"A little battle?" Lokka asks, a single brow raised, "Why? Plead your case, Sir Charles.”

Sir Charles let out another snort, his arrogance seemingly taking control as he spoke again.

“My kingdom has been at war for over a year now. We just lost a significant amount of soldiers and are requesting backup.” He said, as if the reason was obvious and simple. “It would be immensely appreciated if you would send whatever soldiers you can spare.”

"...you have yet to explain why you're even at war or why I should be inclined to help. Perhaps I'd rather help your enemies, hm? What say ye to that?"

Sir Charles stood silent, shocked, for a few moments. The arrogance on his face now faded into disbelief. Obviously, he hadn’t expected the King to be so indifferent and ask for a reason to send soldiers to help.

“The reason for our war…” He repeated, “Why- the reason is…”

He paused for another moment, trying to come up with a reasonable response on why they were at war and why they needed his help. A good reason. One that wasn't seeped in greed.

Lokka chuckles, darkly, in amusement, before speaking with a light disturbingly kind tone despite his words, "Give me a good reason, Sir Charles, before I send you back to your King without a head.”

Sir Charles almost staggered backward in shock, horrified by the King's response. His dark amusement and the threat of beheading him if he can’t come up with a good reason was enough to nearly make Sir Charles piss in his armor, but he managed to stay composed. Mostly. He swallowed thickly before replying again.

“We’ve been at war with our neighboring kingdom for years now. A war we can’t win without you. If you do not help, Your Majesty…” He paused once again, his voice wavering slightly, “We will be overtaken and lost.”

"Still," Lokka says, casually standing from his throne, and slowly walking down the steps of the platform to the main part of the throne room, gesturing with one hand casually for Hannibal to stay, back for now, "You've yet to explain why you're at war. Just that you are and that you're losing." Lokka's tone softens to an almost teasing seductive tone as he nears Sir Charles and raises a hand to gently caress the taller older man's cheek and tilts his gaze to meet his eyes, "so... Explain to me, Sir," Lokka practically purrs, "why," he traces his fingers over the Knight's pulse point, "you need me?”

Sir Charles froze as the King suddenly approached him, his hand gently caressing his cheek and moving his head to face him. The sudden shift in his tone and attitude to something more seductive and playful shocked him, his heart almost stopping as he felt his slender fingers tracing over his pulse point.

He inhaled deeply, unable to find the words to respond. His words got caught in his throat, but he eventually began speaking despite the dryness in his throat.

“I- We…” He paused, swallowing the lump in his throat.

"ooh, has a cat got your tongue?”

Sir Charles tensed his shoulders, his cheeks turning a slight pink at his words. It didn’t help that Lokka was so close to him, his slender but firm and calloused fingers still gently caressing his pulse point. Sir Charles swallowed again, his words stuck in his throat like a frog for a few moments.

“N-no.” He managed to stutter out, cursing himself for stuttering like a boy with a middle school crush.

The King chuckles playfully, dancing around behind the large Knight and draping his arms over the man's shoulders from behind, wrapping his arms around the man's neck and resting his hands teasingly on the man's chest armor.

"hmmm..." Lokka hums in thought, glancing over to Hannibal, "Sir Hannibal, what do you know of Sir Charles and his Kingdom?”

Sir Charles tensed more as the King began to dance around him, jumping slightly as he suddenly draped his arms over his shoulders. He immediately tried to look at whatever Hannibal’s reaction was to the King’s action, his stomach twisting into knots at the King’s forward and almost…flirtatious behavior.

Hannibal’s eyes remained fixated on the pair, his head tilted to the side observing the King’s behavior, and Sir Charles’ reaction. He noted his tension and how he seemed almost afraid of the small young King.

The boy continues to surprise me…

"Don't tell me a cat's got your tongue too now, Sir Hannibal," the young King calls out playfully to his Advisor and Knight, "Do you know of Sir Charles or his Kingdom? Feel free to speak your mind, Sir Hannibal.”

Hannibal’s eyes flicked over to the King as soon as he spoke up, his eyes narrowing for a moment before his normal, calm demeanor returned to him. He raised an eyebrow, a little surprised with the King’s almost childish behavior. He took no issue with it, it was almost…endearing…

Hannibal glanced back at Charles for a moment, observing his behavior further, before speaking up in his usual polite but crisp and composed tone.

“I know of his kingdom and his cause. I also know of his king.”

"Hmm," Lokka hums, teasingly nuzzling his face into Sir Charles' neck from behind, though from where Hannibal stands, Hannibal can see the way Lokka curls his nose in disgust at whatever he smells, or just disgust for the Knight Sir Charles in general.

“Continue to speak your thoughts, Sir Hannibal. What's your opinion? Since you know of him and his King. Should we help them? Why are they in a war?”

Hannibal noticed the way the King’s nose curled in disgust as he nuzzled into the Knight’s neck. That was interesting. Clearly, there was more going on than a simple plea for help. Hannibal kept that thought in the back of his mind for now as he continued to speak up.

“They’re at war with their neighboring kingdom because of a fight over land.” He explained, “Their King wants to expand his kingdom and is willing to take it by any means necessary, even if it means going to war.”

"Hmm...." Lokka hums, tracing his hands teasingly in a sexual manner over Sir Charles chest armor from behind as he continues to nose Sir Charles' neck, "pathetic," he hisses out before suddenly biting down and tearing into Sir Charles' neck, tearing out a large chunk of his flesh and causing blood to gush from his artery.

Sir Charles drops dead to the ground, a few brief gurgling noises before he dies. Lokka is now covered in Sir Charles' blood but looks unbothered. More annoyed with the blood on the beautiful tile throne room floor than anything else.

Lokka whistles out a sharp note and a servant enters.

"Maria, darling,” Lokka says sweetly, almost apologetic, and it seems genuine, “Can you have the gardener get rid of this one like they did with the King? You and the servants may sell or keep whatever he has on him. I'll need someone to clean this blood out of the floor. Again."

Hannibal’s eyes widened in utter shock the moment the young King suddenly bit the Knight’s neck. He stood speechless for a few moments, unable to speak or form any words or coherent thought. Everything about this moment was so…unexpected..

And strangely attractive.

Hannibal watched as the King called in a servant named Maria, almost stunned as he listened to what the pair said. He was still trying to process what just happened, and it almost felt like he was dreaming.

Maria nods and quickly fetches a few other servants. Soon the dead Knight is gone- a handsome but awkward looking man, the gardener presumably, fetching the body and carrying it out- and there's a servant cleaning the blood up. Lokka walks slowly back up to the throne and stops a few feet in front of you.

"Do you still want this job?" Lokka asks, unknowingly licking the blood on his lips.

Lokka's mouth, jaw, neck, and the front of his shirt is soaked in blood from Sir Charles.

"I promise to play nice and let you leave without harm if your answer is no. Though I will be sad if you do choose to leave.”

Hannibal’s eyes remained fixated on the bloody, almost gorey scene before him, unable to tear his eyes away from the blood on the floor.

He stayed silent for a few moments as he finally registered his question to him, his eyes snapping up to meet his gaze. His usual stoic features were now replaced with slight shock and awe. He wasn’t sure how to feel about any of this, it was all so…unexpected…

“I…I do still want the job, Your Majesty.” Hannibal says with a small stutter, surprising even himself. It's not fear though that makes him stutter. Something about the way Lokka looks with blood dripping from his chin is just… delicious. Maddeningly so.

"hmm... Very well then," Lokka turns and looks back at the servant currently cleaning the floor, "Maria? Sir Hannibal and I will be gone for a few minutes. If any guest comes, please apologize for the wait and have them guided to... I don't know where, just somewhere nice and keep them entertained and fed til I return. Understood, doll?”

Maria, a young, brown-haired, and freckled servant, looked up as the King addressed her. She paused for half a second before nodding her head. She didn't seem afraid of him despite the gore and violence.

“Understood, Your Majesty. Will do.” she says simply.

"Good." Lokka says with a soft smile to the girl, though the blood on him ruins the attempt at a kind image.

He turns and gestures for Hannibal to follow as he leaves the throne room and heads for his private chambers.

They're not the original King's Chambers- far too casual and not as overly decorated. There's still nice furniture and a sitting area but it's also decorated with multiple books filled with notes and scribbles in the margins, animal hides and leathers tossed everywhere, half finished crochet and wood carvings and leatherworking projects everywhere.

Lokka leads Hannibal in and practically ignores his presence as he goes to his wardrobe and pulls out a nicer but still not exactly Kingly clothes; simple black pants and a long sleeve black shirt. He changes and washes the blood from his face at the water basin before finally turning to look at Hannibal, not caring that he'd stripped down to his boxers and undershirt in front of the other man since the boxers and undershirt hid the parts of himself he likes to keep hidden from everyone who doesn't need to know his secret.

"So, any opinions or questions as to why I killed that Knight? You're allowed to speak freely. I won't give you the same side of me I gave him.”

Hannibal took the invitation to speak his mind, taking a moment to properly organize his thoughts before beginning to speak.

“You’ve clearly got a distaste for people who you see as weak, a person like the late Knight.” He began, keeping his voice and tone calm, and his words precise and careful to avoid sounding disrespectful. “Perhaps the Knight said something, or you simply got…fed up with him.”

The King chuckles softly, "hm, good theory but not quite, Sir Hannibal," He says as he sits on one of the couches in the sitting area of his private chambers, "I was going to kill him the moment I smelled him- I'm not a normal human if you haven't noticed yet."

Hannibal tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing for a moment as he fully assessed the king now, taking in his unnaturally keen sense of smell. This kid was far more than he seemed. He slowly walked over to the same couch and sat down a few feet away, keeping his usual polite composure still.

“You’re a werecat.”

Hannibal stated, not asking but saying it like it was factual.

“Precisely," the King says with a chuckle.

This was a very interesting development, to say the least. Werecats were relatively rare. Hannibal noted that Lokka's eyes resembled that of a cat. Sharp, unwavering, and almost predatory in a way.

“I assume you could smell that he was a coward…” Hannibal mused out loud, pausing for a moment as he noted more differences about the King.

“I did not kill him for his cowardice. But rather what I smelled on him- what he'd done- before he'd dirtied my Kingdom with his presence."

Hannibal raised an eyebrow, intrigued to know what he smelled on him. He never would’ve expected such a young king to be so…violent. The death was so vicious and sudden, and not to mention messy. And it was all over a particular scent.

But God, was it beautiful…

“What did you smell on him?” Hannibal questioned, his curiosity getting the better of him.

A murderous snarl tugs Lokka's lip, but not at Hannibal, rather the Knight he'd killed, "He smelled of children, suffering children, at least two. Two whose scents were far too different from his to have been his offspring. And scents that reeked of fear and pain. He'd harmed them. I dare not dwell in what ways."

Hannibal’s eyes momentarily darkened as he listened to the kid’s reply. Child abuse, a particular weakness of his. His hatred for it was almost as strong as his cannibalism.

For a split second, Hannibal suddenly felt a pang of…admiration. The kid had a sense of justice, in a way. A strange moral sense of delivering justice but still. He wasn’t a normal royal, that’s for sure.

“Is that why you killed him the way you did?” He questioned, masking his previous internal admiration and remaining composed and polite.

"Yes.”

Hannibal didn’t know how to feel about the King being so…unapologetic and straightforward about his violence, yet he found it almost refreshing and…charming. Usually, nobles danced and tiptoed around the subject and acted disgusted or horrified when acts like this were brought up.

“A brutal, yet justified death.” Hannibal muttered under his breath, speaking his thoughts out loud by accident.

"I'm glad you think so," Lokka says softly, head tilted slightly as he looks up at Hannibal.

Hannibal noticed his head tilt, taking in the small action further. He couldn’t help but find it…cute. The little King was clearly not an ordinary King, especially for his age. He was young, wild, and violent, and yet there was an almost endearing quality to him. Almost like that of a small, feral creature.

Hannibal's eyes drifted to the King's lips.

Soft and stained a faint red from the blood that he'd just washed off.

Lips that had parted to kill a man.

Lethal but beautiful lips that Hannibal wants to-

------

The gif of Hannibal covered in blood belongs to @bloodydancy ☮️💖

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soaps-mohawk · 2 months ago

Note

Hehehe thank you for giving me the permission to yap. Idk how long this will end up being so grab a snack to read-

(and to my ask before. I agree with you. I was close to rage quitting SO MUCH but then I'd cry cause I didn't want to loose where I was in the mission so I cried my way through it. Darn you Kyle for falling out of that plane... and yes. I used youtube vids for the alone mission HELP)

Okaayyy my fic idea. Its possibly going to be a dystopien omegaverse fic, reader is a omega, Price and Ghost are alpha's and Soap and Gaz betas (I've always imagined them like that since reading ur fic, but i make them other things depending on the ship. and what the story is like. like nikprice, i oftern think of alpha x alpha or make John a omega heh)

So outline part 1 is, the worlds population has been greatly plumeting, since the old goverment wasnt strict as the new one. The new goverment takes over, and builds a intitute that forces omegas into it as soon as they present to teach them to be the 'perfect omega'. its one of those VERY messed up places, like the guards or workers dont give a damn, they get no help and are brainwashed to not tell anyone abt how it works. (This was one of the parts where i was scared it was close to urs, thats why im yapping now so if u think its too close u can scold me and tell me to think of smt else LOL)

As soon as omega's hit 18, they are sent out into a pack or with an alpha. betas can join a waiting list, but alphas get priority. Now, when the rest of the task force was offered, they declined. But poor Johnny just wanted his own lass, he didn't think it'd be bad. so he joins the waiting list, and ends up getting reader. And well the rest arent happy cause now they gotta help look after this traumatised lil thing.

What i was thinking, Johnny has never had a omega, because of the intitute and goverment. So he has no proper idea on how to care for an omegas needs, like heats and everything. so he ends up getting the rest of the team to slowly help (it overtime becomes a poly relationship) but as reader feels safer, she ends up feeling safe enough to talk about what happened in the institute (cause whos gonna come after a military pack, they're protecting her?!)

but ofc, the goverment finds out and like nup they aint having that, and they take her back. (this is sometime idk when) but they all end up turning against the whole goverment and yada yada. Theres prob A LOT i would change so far and add, but I havent gotten that in depth yet.

do u think thats too simular to CRCB... idk I was thinking about it once then i remember oh crap thats sounding a lil familiar- part of the reason i wanted to tell you abt it, also just bc i wanted to yap abt it bc if i end up writing/changing it its just rlly interesting. you dont veen gotta answer this if its too close just msg me and scold me HELP-

anyway ill stop my yapping before it turns into a novel.

Reminder to get a drink and a snack, I hope you can get plenty of rest <3 (apologies for any spelling mistakes, I'm half asleep and couldn't be entirely bothered to reread and Im just praying it makes sense. Grammarly dont like me)

I think that's a great idea!! Very unique!! I'm glad I could inspire you to write your own fic and I don't mind the similar ideas. (So long as credit is given where credit is due)

#answered #queue 06

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circinuus · 2 years ago

Text

"Hey, Yoichi."

"Yeah?"

Isagi watches you grin. He can already piece the puzzles. Something is going to go very, very wrong.

"Come sleep on my lap."

He was right.

With a jolt, the poor boy grows frazzled. Wide-eyed and mouth agape. His cheeks redden like the blush of dawn you worry lest he overheat and plop down on the warm grasses.

Years of acquaintance with his sweetheart—his everything. Isagi corrects himself—don't seem to be enough to prepare him for this. For you. Call the boy the master of being adaptable, but there's something about you that never fails to surprise him.

"Aw! Come on~"

Pat pat.

You tap your upper thigh. No skin is exposed, no. But with you sitting on your knees, the light fabric of your midi skirt did nothing to shield the outline of your-

"Absolutely not!" he splutters, hiding the blooming blush with the back of his hand. The spring wind blows a gust of dandelions. Then he remembers that you were enjoying a nice picnic and each other's silence, just now. Him watching people—and stealing glances at you. A little—while you munch on a butter sandwich. Just now.

"Why not?" the sandwich is now long gone in your digestive system. And of course, you'll find something out of pocket when you have nothing in your hands.

"I saw some couples doing it on social media, isn't it cute?"

"I mean," he coughs, "it's really sudden, but.. if you're okay with it..?"

"Yes yes!" your hands clap, "Besides, you've been working so hard. I gotta spoil you, my little precious!"

Just like that, his face reddened again. Eyes flitting from your face, then to your lap. Then like a boy caught stealing cookies, they drift hastily to a space behind you. It's difficult to imagine. This is the same boy who throws violent insults on the football pitch like Santa giving presents on Christmas. Get you a man who can do both, they say.

"Well.." Isagi hesitates, but scoots closer all the same.

Pspspspspsps!

"Here! Here!" You pat your thighs again, perhaps a little bit too eagerly. With the spring tide clouds rolling by, Isagi finally rests his head on your lap. His hair slightly tickling you through the fabric of your skirt.

He was tense, yes, the sweet boy. But you slowly thread your finger through his dark locks, caressing the crown of his head. Who was he to resist against your touch? Isagi soon melts in your hold and relaxes his head in your cradle.

You close your eyes, content, and once again you both enjoy each other's silence. Another gust of dandelion seeds flew by. Your other hand reaches for his as you hum a small tune. Your thumb rubbing circles in the back of his hand.

"(Name), you're very pretty."

And then Isagi took his turn to surprise you, this time.

Looking down, gone was the bashful boy with a skittish gait. His eyes are of a deep shade of blue like the prettiest sapphire you could ever find. And he dons the expression of a boy who might be stricken by a deadly case of young lovesickness.

Maybe he is. Because he reaches for your cheek as you are both lost in each other's eyes. And maybe you too. Because you smile at the sweet words and let him guide your face towards his, enough for your lips to...

"Mwah!"

-Reach his nose!

Isagi blinks. He received a perfect little Eskimo kiss!

"You're such a tease!" his laugh melds with yours, still in the comfort of your hold. Then you make another of that radiant grin. The one that Isagi really likes.

"Only to you," you said. And the lovesick boy can only wonder how the universe has given someone as perfect as you for him.

Turns out he was wrong, after all. With you, things will always go very, very right.

I feel rusty it's been a while since I wrote something 😞 also first bllk fic in this blog :') things are getting out of hand and now im attached to these football nerds.

and isagi he is uhh canonically a thigh type of guy so...

#blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #isagi x reader #isagi yoichi x reader

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scarletwinterxx · 1 month ago

Note

hiiii! i really enjoy reading your niki aus!! if the request are open, is it possible to request a vernon or minghao x oc one-shot/short drabble based off of niki's song 'facebook friends'? i just heard it again and thought about them :((((

YOU ARE IN LUCK BCS I JUST SAW NIKI 😭 when i read this request I JUST KNEW WHAT TO DO but i'm still working on my angst writing skills but i hope you enjoy this one🥺

alsoooo for reqs, i am slowly working my way through them. it might take some time tho so just a heads up😅🤍

for my other svt fics, check them here

(pics not mine, credits to rightful owner)

You stare at the name on your email inbox, double-checking to make sure you read it correctly.

Xu Minghao.

Your fingers tighten around the edge of your desk as Jihyo leans over your shoulder. "No way," she whispers. "It’s him? The artist you've been trying to track down is him?"

It almost doesn’t feel real. The elusive, secretive artist whose work has been making waves in the industry—the one you’ve been assigned to collaborate with for the upcoming exhibit—is none other than the person you once thought might be your forever.

The one who slipped away from you like a dream fading in the morning light.And now, after years of silence, you have a meeting scheduled with him.

You exhale slowly, trying to push down the sudden wave of emotions threatening to rise. It's been years. Maybe he’s changed. Maybe you have. But there’s no denying that the name on your screen still has the power to shake you.

Jihyo nudges your shoulder. “Are you okay?”

You nod, though you’re not entirely sure if it’s true.

“I mean, what are the odds?” she says, still staring at the screen like it might change if she blinks enough times. “Are you gonna go?”

You give her a look. “Of course, I have to. It’s my job.”

“Yeah, but—” she pauses, studying you. “It’s him. You never really told me what happened between you two.”

You swallow, memories flashing through your mind—late-night conversations, whispered laughter, the way he used to look at you like you were the only person in the room. And then, the goodbye that came too soon.

“I don’t know,” you admit. “We just… lost each other.”

Jihyo hums, clearly not satisfied with that answer but choosing not to push. Instead, she gestures toward your laptop. “Well, whatever happened, you’re about to see him again. Are you ready for that?”

You glance at the email again, at the date and time of the meeting.

Ready or not, it’s happening.

The café you picked for the meeting is quiet, tucked away from the usual crowd. You arrived early, nerves buzzing under your skin, but you kept your posture composed. Professional. This is just work.

When Minghao walks in, the air seems to shift. He’s just as you remember—tall, effortlessly graceful, his presence commanding without trying. His dark eyes scan the space before they land on you.

“Hey,” he says simply, sliding into the seat across from you like this is the most casual thing in the world.

Like nothing ever happened.

Your grip tightens around your coffee cup. “Thanks for coming.”

He nods, leaning back slightly. “You were persistent.” There’s a ghost of amusement in his tone, but nothing more. No flicker of recognition beyond what’s expected. No acknowledgment of the past you once shared.

Jihyo, sitting beside you, clears her throat. “So, you two know each other?”

You hesitate. Minghao beats you to it.

“We used to.” His voice is light, indifferent. “It’s been a long time.”

That’s it. No warmth, no curiosity. Just a fact, stated and discarded.

Jihyo shoots you a glance, one eyebrow raised, but you can’t meet her eyes. Instead, you straighten your shoulders and force a professional tone. “Let’s talk about the exhibit.”

You pull out your tablet, tapping the screen to bring up the exhibit’s concept proposal. Your fingers are steady, your voice even as you start outlining the details, but you can feel Jihyo’s gaze flickering toward you every so often. She’s noticed. Of course, she has.

“This exhibit is designed to focus on themes of anonymity and identity,” you explain, keeping your tone neutral, professional. “Your work fits seamlessly with that concept. The way you obscure figures, distort reality—it makes the viewer question what’s real and what’s hidden beneath the surface.”

Minghao listens, his face unreadable. He nods slightly but doesn’t interrupt.

You glance up, trying to gauge his reaction, but his expression gives away nothing. This version of him—cool, detached—feels foreign to you. The Minghao you knew was quiet but warm, his words sparse but meaningful. You remember the way his gaze used to linger, the way his laughter felt like a secret just for you.

But this man in front of you? He might as well be a stranger.

Still, you push through, keeping your voice steady.

“We’ll be dedicating an entire section to your work. Since you prefer anonymity, we can arrange for all communication to go through me directly—unless you’d like to be more involved in the curation process?”

Minghao tilts his head slightly, considering. “I trust your judgment.”

Something about the way he says it, so detached, makes something tighten in your chest.

“Then we’ll handle the layout and let you approve before finalizing. I’d also like to discuss any specific pieces you have in mind.”

Minghao hums, fingers lightly tapping against the table. “I’ll send over a selection tonight.”

And just like that, it’s all business. No hesitation, no awkwardness on his part. It’s like the years apart never happened. Like you never meant anything more than a fleeting acquaintance.

Jihyo clears her throat, leaning forward slightly. “So, Mr. Xu,” she says, feigning casual interest

“Minghao is fine”

“Right, sorry. Minghao, I heard you go way back, huh?”

You shoot her a sharp glance, but she ignores it.

Minghao, to your frustration, remains utterly unbothered. He gives a slight nod. “Yeah. We knew each other a long time ago.”

That’s it. No elaboration. No emotion.

“Minghao, we’d also like to arrange a preview event before the full opening—”

Jihyo leans back in her chair, clearly unimpressed with your deflection, but she lets it slide. For now.

The meeting continues, all smooth efficiency and professional formality. You and Minghao exchange words, but none of them are personal. Nothing slips through. Still, you can feel it. That undercurrent of something unresolved.

The office is quiet except for the rhythmic clicking of your keyboard as you work on the proposal layout. You’re determined to focus, to push past whatever lingering tension is still curling in your chest from the meeting. Minghao is just another artist, and this is just another exhibit. That’s all.

At least, that’s what you keep telling yourself.

Then, from the corner of your eye, you see Jihyo.

She doesn’t say anything at first. Just slowly rolls her chair over to your desk. The wheels squeak slightly against the floor, making her approach all the more dramatic. You pretend not to notice.

She stops right beside you, hands folded in her lap. Waits.

You continue typing, expression neutral.

Jihyo exhales. “So…”

You keep typing.

She leans in. “Who was Minghao to you?”

You knew this was coming. You let out a slow breath, still focused on the screen. “An artist I’m working with.”

Jihyo makes a noise—a mix between a scoff and a laugh. “Oh, please.” She swivels her chair so she’s directly facing you. “I may not have known you when you two were a thing, but I know you now, and you were not normal back there.”

You sigh, finally looking at her. “Jihyo—”

She lifts a finger. “No. Don’t ‘Jihyo’ me. The tension at that table? I could taste it. And I don’t even know what flavor it was. Bitterness? Regret? Unresolved yearning?”

You groan, letting your head drop onto your desk. “Can we not?”

Jihyo pats your shoulder. “Oh, we absolutely can.” Then, after a pause, she adds, “But we won’t.”

You lift your head just enough to glare at her. “It was a long time ago.”

Jihyo tilts her head. “And yet, here we are.”

You open your mouth to argue, but nothing comes out. Because she’s right. You did react. You did feel something. And the fact that Minghao acted like nothing ever happened? That stung more than you’d like to admit.

Jihyo smirks, clearly seeing the conflict on your face. “Look, I’m just saying… If this were a movie, this would be the part where you two have a dramatic, emotionally charged confrontation in the rain.”

You deadpan. “We’re curating an art exhibit, not starring in a K-drama.”

Jihyo grins. “Yet.”

The exhibit venue is quiet when you arrive. Sunlight filters through the tall windows, casting long shadows on the polished floors. You exhale, taking in the open space, already visualizing how the pieces will be arranged.

You came alone on purpose.

After the meeting with Minghao, you needed a moment to clear your head. No distractions, no lingering stares, no best friend dramatically rolling her chair toward you demanding answers.

Just you and the work.

You move toward the center of the room, pulling out your tablet to review the layout. The space is perfect—high ceilings, just the right balance of natural and artificial light. The way the walls curve will complement Minghao’s pieces beautifully. You can already imagine the way his art will breathe life into the room.

You’re so focused that you don’t notice someone else entering. Minghao stands near the entrance, hands in the pockets of his coat, eyes scanning the space before they land on you.

Your fingers tighten around your tablet. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

He shrugs slightly. “I wanted to see the space for myself.” His voice is calm, casual like running into each other is just another normal occurrence. Like you didn’t sit across from each other yesterday, pretending you were just two professionals who had never been anything else.

You nod, forcing yourself to mirror his indifference. “It’s a good venue. Your pieces will stand out here.”

Minghao steps further inside, gaze flickering over the walls, the lighting, the empty space waiting to be filled. “It suits the theme.”

There’s a beat of silence. You shift your weight slightly, debating whether to say something more, but Minghao speaks first.

“You always wanted to do this, didn’t you?”

You blink, caught off guard. “What?”

“This.” He gestures loosely around the venue. “Curating. Putting together exhibits. I remember you talking about it.”

You stare at him for a moment, something unreadable in his expression. He remembers?

You shake it off, nodding. “Yeah. I worked for it.”

Minghao hums in acknowledgment, stepping closer. “You’re good at it.”

It’s a simple statement, but something about it makes your breath hitch. You tell yourself it’s just the surprise of hearing him say it, not the warmth curling at the edges of your chest.

You clear your throat, shifting the conversation back. “We’ll need to finalize the layout soon. If you have any specific requirements for how your pieces should be displayed, now’s the time to bring them up.”

Minghao looks at you, something unreadable flickering in his gaze. “I trust your judgment.”

It’s the second time he’s said that, and yet, it still feels different coming from him.

For a moment, the weight of the past lingers in the space between you. But then, Minghao turns, walking further into the venue, and just like that, the moment is gone.

You pull up the digital floor plan on your tablet, stepping to the center of the space as Minghao watches. “The main area will have the larger installations,” you begin, voice steady, professional. “We want visitors to be drawn in immediately, so we’re positioning the most visually striking pieces here.”

Minghao nods slightly, his gaze sweeping across the room, already visualizing it. “This section will be more intimate. It’s meant to slow people down, to make them pause and really engage with the work rather than just passing through.”

You continue walking, feeling yourself getting more absorbed in the details. You’re in your element now curating, shaping the experience, making sure every piece has a purpose.

Then, you stop in front of a particular section of the room.

There’s something about this space. The way the light falls, the way it feels slightly tucked away yet still open. You can see it. something important should go here. Something that holds weight. But for some reason, the words to explain it won’t come out the way you want them to.

You frown slightly, trying to find the right phrasing. “This part—there’s just something about it,” you say, gesturing vaguely. “It’s like… I don’t know, it feels different from the rest of the space, like it—”

You cut yourself off, frustrated, but before you can try again, Minghao speaks.

“I can see that.”

You turn to him. He’s looking at the space, his expression soft, thoughtful. Then, he smiles—small, barely there, but real.

“You’re right,” he says simply.

And just like that, you know he understands. Exactly what you meant, even when you couldn’t find the words.

After walking through the space, you decide to stop by the small café tucked inside the venue. You were planning on going alone just a quick coffee before heading back to finalize more details but Minghao follows.

You don’t say anything as you both order, and he doesn’t make a move to leave once you find a quiet corner to sit. It’s not awkward, exactly.

Just… unexpected.

Then, as you stir your drink absentmindedly, he asks,

“How have you been?”

You blink, looking up at him. There’s no bitterness in his tone, no underlying anger or resentment. Just a simple question, asked like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

You hesitate for a moment before answering honestly. “I’ve been better.”

Minghao nods slightly, as if he expected that. He doesn’t push, doesn’t ask for details. Just lets your words settle between you. For some reason, that makes it harder to breathe.

Minghao watches you for a moment, fingers curled loosely around his cup. Then, in that quiet, thoughtful way of his, he says,

“You look good. More at peace.”

You freeze. Not because of the words themselves, but because of what he means.

He’s not just saying you look good. He’s talking about then. About the person you were when you left him. The version of you who didn’t know what to say, who let silence build walls between you both until there was no way back.

The wrong person at the right time.

You swallow, gripping your cup a little tighter. “I guess time does that.”

Minghao hums in response, gaze still steady, like he’s seeing through you rather than just looking. But he doesn’t say anything more.

You take a sip of your drink, staring down at the foam swirling in your cup. The air between you and Minghao isn’t heavy, but it isn’t entirely light either. It’s balanced on the edge of something unspoken. Something that neither of you seem willing to reach for.

Still, if he can acknowledge you, then you can do the same for him.

“You’ve done well for yourself,” you say, setting your cup down. “Your work is everywhere now. People are obsessed with figuring out the artist behind it all.”

Minghao exhales a small laugh, tilting his head slightly. “That wasn’t really the goal.”

You nod, because you know that. He never cared for fame, only the art itself. “Still. Congratulations.”

His eyes flicker to yours, and for a second, there’s something unreadable in his gaze. “Thanks.”

You lean back in your seat, studying him in a way you hadn’t let yourself before. He’s still him—still thoughtful, still composed—but there’s something different now. A certain ease in his presence.

“I always thought you’d make it,” you admit quietly. “Even back then.”

Minghao watches you, his expression unreadable. “Yeah?”

You nod, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Of course. You were never meant to be small. It was just a matter of time before people realized how good you are.”

There’s a flicker of something in his eyes—something like surprise, something softer. He looks down at his cup, fingers tracing the rim. “You were the first person who ever said that to me.”

Your heart stumbles over itself for a moment. “I was?”

Minghao nods, gaze still on his drink. “Yeah.”

You sit with that for a moment, the weight of it settling between you. Back then, you were the one who saw it—the potential, the brilliance in him before the rest of the world did. You wonder if he remembers the late nights spent in quiet corners, sketchbooks spread out between you, his voice low as he talked about what he wanted to create.

You wonder if he remembers how much you believed in him.

Minghao lifts his head again, his gaze steady. “And you?” he asks. “Are you where you thought you’d be?”

The question catches you off guard.

You let out a slow breath, considering it. “I don’t know,” you say honestly. “I worked for this, and I love what I do. But… I don’t think I ever imagined it exactly like this.”

Minghao nods like he understands. Maybe he does. Then silence settles again, but this time, it doesn’t feel so sharp.

Maybe, after all these years, you’re both learning how to sit with unfinished conversations.

You don’t expect the call.

It’s late in the afternoon when your phone buzzes, Minghao’s name flashing across the screen. For a second, you just stare at it, debating whether to answer. But curiosity wins over hesitation, and you press the call button.

“I need to show you something,” he says, skipping the pleasantries.

You blink. “What?”

“My studio,” he says simply. “Come by if you can.”

And just like that, you’re standing outside his studio a few hours later, staring at the discreet entrance of a space you never expected to see. Minghao lets you in without a word, leading you through a warmly lit, open space that’s somehow both chaotic and meticulous. Canvases lean against the walls, paintbrushes sit in jars, and sketchbooks are stacked on nearly every surface.

It smells like paint, ink, and something distinctly him.

You take your time looking around, scanning the pieces scattered throughout the room. Some are finished, others half-done, waiting for something only Minghao knows. His style has evolved—bolder, more refined—but you can still see the traces of the artist you once knew.

Then your eyes land on something unexpected.

A random piece of paper, slightly worn at the edges, tucked between a few sketchbooks. And on it—

You.

A sketch, delicate and detailed, as if he had drawn it absentmindedly but with careful intent. The lines are softer than his usual work, more personal.

It looks like he made it a long time ago.

Your breath catches for just a second. You carefully pick up the paper, running your fingers over the edges. “This is…”

Minghao glances over, his expression unreadable. He doesn’t look surprised that you found it.

You look at him. “You kept this?”

He holds your gaze for a moment before shrugging. “It was never meant to be thrown away.”

There’s something in his voice—something quiet, something real—that makes your chest feel too tight. Minghao doesn’t acknowledge the sketch any further. No explanation, no lingering stares, no sentimental comments. Just a simple, indifferent shift in attention—like it was nothing at all. Like it wasn’t a quiet echo of something neither of you had spoken about in years.

Instead, he steps past you, gesturing toward a set of canvases against the wall. “These are the pieces I’m considering for the exhibit.” His tone is smooth, professional. As if the last few minutes never happened.

You exhale, steadying yourself before setting the sketch down carefully. If he wants to act like it wasn’t there, like it didn’t just pull you backward in time, then fine. Business as usual.

“I want this one in the main space,” Minghao says, tapping a particular canvas. It’s bold—strong lines, movement that commands attention. It’s exactly the kind of piece that pulls people in.

You nod. “It’ll work well as a centerpiece. We can adjust the lighting to enhance the depth here.” You gesture toward a section of the painting. “It should be the first thing people see when they enter.”

Minghao hums in agreement, moving on to the next one. He explains the intention behind each piece, his voice calm, collected. You listen, taking notes, asking the necessary questions. You keep your posture straight, your tone even. Like you’re just a curator working with an artist.

Like you didn’t just see a version of yourself from years ago, sketched on a piece of paper he never threw away.

You sit in the small office area of his studio, notebook open, pen moving as you jot down notes. Minghao sits across from you, leaning slightly against the desk, his arms folded as he explains his vision for the exhibit.

“This one should be near the entrance,” he says, tapping a photo of a piece. “It sets the tone.”

You nod, writing it down. “And the smaller installations?”

“Scattered,” he replies. “I want people to explore, not just walk through.”

You hum in understanding, scribbling another note. Your focus stays on the page, on the structure, on making sure everything is recorded properly.

Then—silence.

You don’t notice it at first, too absorbed in organizing his ideas into something tangible. But after a few beats, the quiet lingers, stretching between you like something waiting to be acknowledged.

You pause. Slowly, you look up.

Minghao is watching you.

His expression isn’t unreadable, nor is it piercing. It’s just… thoughtful. His dark eyes steady, observant, like he’s studying something beyond the notes you’re taking.

You hold his gaze, but he doesn’t speak.

It’s the way he used to look at you—when you weren’t paying attention, when you were lost in thought. Back then, you had pretended not to notice. You wonder if you should do the same now.

Instead, you blink, shifting slightly in your seat. “…What?”

Minghao’s lips curve just slightly, something almost amused flickering across his face. Then, as if nothing happened, he looks back at the notes.

“Nothing,” he says smoothly.

And just like that, he continues as if he hadn’t just looked at you like that.

Jihyo orders the second round before you even finish your first. She gives you a knowing look over the rim of her glass, waiting, letting the weight of the night settle around you. The bar is loud enough that no one else is paying attention to your conversation, but not so loud that you have an excuse to avoid it.

You sigh, pressing your fingertips against your temple. “I don’t even know where to start.”

Jihyo leans forward, eyes glinting under the dim lights. “How about the part where you and the mysterious, elusive Minghao actually have history? Because I’m still recovering from that revelation.”

You exhale a quiet laugh, shaking your head. “We met in university.”

“Uh-huh.”

“We were… close.”

Jihyo raises a brow.

You roll your eyes. “Fine. We were together. Sort of.” You take a sip of your drink, letting the warmth settle in your chest before continuing. “It wasn’t like some grand, dramatic thing. One day, it was just… us. And it made sense.”

Jihyo watches you carefully, sipping her own drink. “And then?”

You grip your glass a little tighter. “And then one day, I left.”

She stills, waiting.

You swallow, staring at the ice cubes clinking softly against the glass. “It wasn’t planned. Or maybe it was, but not in a way I let myself admit. One day, I was fine, we were fine. And then the next, I told myself it was too much. Too fast.” Your fingers trace the rim of your glass absently. “I convinced myself I needed space. That if I stepped away, I’d figure things out. And when I was ready, he’d still be there.”

Jihyo doesn’t say anything, just watching you carefully.

You let out a quiet laugh, but it’s hollow. “That was just me being selfish.”

There. You finally said it.

“I came back,” you continue, voice quieter now. “I thought—maybe I’d say something, maybe I’d fix it. But by then, he was gone. Really gone. And I couldn’t blame him for that.”

Jihyo exhales slowly. “Damn.”

You huff out a weak laugh. “Yeah.”

She tilts her head, eyes searching yours. “And now?”

Now.

Now, you’re a curator, standing across from him in a professional setting, acting like none of it ever happened. Now, he’s a well-known artist, more self-assured, more composed, as if the years that passed had only refined him.

Now, you sit here, trying to be happy for him. And you are.

But there are moments—like when he looked at you in his studio, like when he spoke about his art the way he always used to—when you wish you met now.

When you wish he met this version of you.

You shake your head, forcing a small smile. “It doesn’t matter. He’s doing well. I’m happy for him.”

Jihyo gives you a long look, then sighs, taking another sip of her drink. “You can be happy for someone and still wish things were different.”

You close your eyes briefly, exhaling. “Yeah.”

Neither of you say anything for a while, just letting the weight of old memories and unfinished stories settle between you.

Then Jihyo knocks back the rest of her drink and slaps a hand on the table. “Okay, I love you, but that was depressing as hell. We need another round.”

You let out a real laugh this time, shaking your head. “Fine. One more.”

Jihyo grins. “Atta girl.”

And for now, that’s enough.

A few days later you go back to check the venue. With the event fast approaching you wanted to make sure everything is perfect.

The venue is quiet, save for the occasional shuffling of canvases and the soft hum of the overhead lights. It’s late—too late for the rest of the team to still be here—but you stayed behind, double-checking the placements, making sure everything looked just right.

Your footsteps echo lightly as you walk through the space, stopping in front of one particular painting.

It’s larger than you remember.

You know this piece. Or rather, you know the first version of it, the one that used to sit in Minghao’s dorm back in university. He had painted it late one night, the room dimly lit, colors swirling on the canvas as he worked in quiet concentration. You remembered watching him, sitting on the floor with your back against his bed, knees pulled to your chest.

A voice breaks through the stillness.

“I didn’t think you’d still remember that.”

You turn to see Minghao a few steps away, hands tucked into his pockets. He isn’t surprised to see you here. Maybe he expected it.

Your lips curve slightly. “Of course I remember.” You glance back at the painting. “It’s right here.”

Minghao steps closer, stopping beside you. His gaze lingers on the canvas, something unreadable in his expression.

“This was the first piece I ever made public,” he says after a moment.

You blink, turning to him. “Really?”

He nods. “After you left, I thought about getting rid of it.” He exhales, tilting his head slightly. “But I couldn’t. So instead, I made it bigger. And when the time came to submit something for my first exhibit, I chose this.”

Something tightens in your chest.

You look up at him. His expression isn’t unreadable, nor is it particularly wistful. He’s just… there. Present. Real.

And maybe that’s enough. Maybe some stories don’t need rewriting. Maybe some things aren’t meant to be undone, only understood.

You look back at the painting, taking in every stroke, every layer of color. It’s the same, but it’s different. Like you. Like him. Like everything that’s changed between you.

You swallow, voice quieter now. “So this was it. The start.”

Minghao nods, his voice just as soft. “Yeah.”

You don’t know what else to say.

The painting stretches before you, a silent testament to the history you share—one that neither of you ever really put into words. You keep your gaze on the painting, the familiar swirls of color pulling you back to a time when things were simpler—when you didn’t question what you meant to each other, when you just were.

Your voice is quiet when you ask, “Why this?”

Minghao doesn’t answer right away. He stands beside you, hands still tucked in his pockets, his head tilted slightly as he looks at the painting.

Then, after a long pause, he says, “Because I thought even if we parted ways we were still under the same stars.”

Your breath catches.

His voice is steady, like he isn’t saying something that shakes you. Like it’s just a simple truth. “And maybe,” he continues, softer now, “somewhere, on rare days… you think of me too.”

You blink, staring at the painting but not really seeing it anymore.

Because the thing is...

he’s right.

There were days, rare but sharp, when your mind drifted to him. When a passing song or a quiet night sky would remind you of a version of yourself you hadn’t spoken to in years. A version that had loved him, once. A version that had left.

You exhale slowly. “I did.” A pause. “I do.”

Minghao doesn’t react right away. But then, almost imperceptibly, his lips curve—just slightly, just enough for you to notice.

Neither of you say anything for a while. You just stand there, in the quiet of the venue, looking at a piece of art that holds more history than either of you are willing to say out loud.

Then, finally, Minghao shifts. “Come on,” he murmurs, glancing toward the exit. “You shouldn’t stay here this late. I’ll walk you out.”

You hesitate, just for a second. Then you nod.

But as you follow him out, you glance back one last time—at the painting, at the stars you once saw in it.

And you wonder how many times you’ve looked up at the same sky, thinking of him without realizing he was doing the same.

The event is a success.

People linger in front of Minghao’s pieces, murmuring their admiration, pointing out the details, the emotions woven into every brushstroke. Critics and collectors alike speak highly of his work, and you hear words like breathtaking and transcendent float through the air as you move through the crowd.

And yet, he’s not here.

You knew he wouldn’t be. Minghao had always been private, letting his work speak for him rather than stepping into the spotlight himself. But still, as the evening progresses and the venue slowly empties, you find yourself glancing at the entrance, wondering.

When the crowd finally dies down and most of the guests have gone, you take a quiet moment to breathe.

Then the door opens.

You turn

And there he is.

Minghao walks in without ceremony, effortlessly slipping into the space that had been dedicated to him all night. He looks around briefly, taking it all in, before his gaze finds you.

And in his hands a bouquet of flowers.

You blink, caught off guard. “You bought me flowers?”

His lips curve into something close to a smile. “It seemed fitting.”

You accept them hesitantly, fingers brushing over the petals. They’re simple, elegant not overly extravagant, but thoughtful. Like him.

He exhales, looking around at his own work before settling his gaze back on you. “It turned out even better than I imagined.”

You nod. “People loved it.”

Minghao hums, glancing at one of the paintings. Then, after a beat, he says, “Thank you.”

You look up at him, tilting your head. “For what?”

His expression softens. “Because you were the first person who ever believed in me.”

Something catches in your throat.

You think back to university, to late nights spent watching him paint, to the way you had always known—even back then—that he had something special. That the world would recognize it one day.

“I just saw what was already there,” you say quietly.

Minghao holds your gaze for a moment before letting out a small breath. “Still.”

You don’t say anything else. You just stand there, surrounded by his art, by his success, by the quiet weight of everything that has led to this moment. And this time, there’s no regret. Just something warmer, something steady. Something that feels a little like peace.

You glance down at the flowers in your hands, fingers brushing over the petals. The colors are soft, warm—not unlike the way this moment feels. When you look back up at Minghao, he’s already watching you. Not expectantly, not searching.

Just seeing you. The way he always has.

“I’m glad we met again,” you say, voice quieter now.

Minghao’s gaze doesn’t waver. He doesn’t ask what you mean, doesn’t press for something deeper. Maybe because he already knows. You’re content to meet this version of him. And you’re happy he got to see this version of you too.

Minghao exhales softly, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. Then he nods, just once. “Me too.”

Minghao reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a folded piece of paper. He hesitates for just a second before extending it toward you. You take it carefully, unfolding it with steady hands.

And there it is—the original sketch of his first painting. The one you used to watch him work on in that tiny university dorm, the one that reminded you of the stars. The one that started everything.

You trace the faded lines with your fingertips, feeling the weight of time in every stroke.

Minghao exhales, tilting his head slightly. “It’s fitting that you have it.”

You look up at him, surprised. “Are you sure?”

He nods. “You were the first person who saw something in it. In me.” A small pause, then, softer—“It should be yours.”

Something in your chest tightens—not with regret, not with longing, but with something steadier, something like understanding.

You fold the paper carefully, holding it close. “Thank you.”

Minghao doesn’t say anything else. He just gives you a small, knowing smile before turning back to look at his own paintings. The pieces of himself that the world finally sees.

And as you stand there, with the past in your hands and the present settling around you, you realize—this is closure.

And it’s enough.

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